


To Love Is To Breathe, With You

by macaroni_meangirls



Category: Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe, Mean Girls - Richmond/Benjamin/Fey
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse, Anxiety, Bomb, Bullying, Childhood Trauma, F/F, Homicide, Knife Mention, Pride, Self Harm, drinking as a coping mechanism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-04-06 07:33:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 37,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19058104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macaroni_meangirls/pseuds/macaroni_meangirls
Summary: First of all, if someone you know has been poisoned, CALL POISON CONTROL BEFORE DOING ANYTHING.TW for graphic suicide attempt





	1. Te Amo

Janis proudly brags about having the smartest girlfriend at Northshore High.

Cady Heron is fluent in Swahili. She's the star of the Mathletes. She could do advanced calculus in her sleep. Without a doubt, Cady is a genius, and Janis is extremely proud of her.

So proud, in fact, that she's decided Cady deserves someone half as smart as she is. Janis isn't stupid, not by a long shot, but her intelligence mostly applies to real-life situations, not academic ones. Cady is the exact opposite. There's no outsmarting Cady at school, but Janis is certain that she can at least manage to impress her.

It’s been a month, and Janis is certain that this is the real thing. This isn’t anything like her eighth grade fling with Regina, a wild, puppy-dog crush the blonde girl did nothing but exploit. She used Janis’s crush on her to manipulate her, and when Janis started to pick up on the fact that Regina was never actually going to deliver on her grand romantic promises…

Janis shudders, brushing away the painful memory in favor of imagining Cady’s sweet, grinning face, dotted with freckles scattered like confetti over her cheekbones. Immediately the clouds clear away, the massive weight that the thought of Regina drops into her stomach disappearing like magic. A ridiculous, goofy grin spreads over Janis’s face just at the thought of her beautiful girlfriend.

This is why she’s so certain she loves Cady. Cady is the only person who can do this for her. Not even Damian can bring a smile to her face so quickly. But she’s never told her, and while Cady doesn’t seem to be in any rush, Janis couldn’t live with herself if she let the other girl pass her by because she didn’t have the balls to commit to her.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cady giggles, resting her head on Janis’s shoulder, the sweet scent of her lavender shampoo filling her nose. “You’re so sweet…”

“You think?” Janis asks, resting her head against Cady’s and nudging aside the picnic basket with her foot, allowing her legs more room. “Sweeter than the ice cream?”

“Much sweeter,” Cady agrees, nestling further into Janis’s side. “What’s the occasion, baby? You really surprised me, you told me we were going to the...the mouse place?”

“Chuck E. Cheese?” Janis corrects, giggling. “I’m ninety percent sure that mange-ridden monstrosity is a rat. Whatever he is, I don’t trust him. Especially not enough to take my beautiful girlfriend into his lair.”

Cady giggles, shoving her teasingly. “Don’t let the rat eat me!”

“I’m not!” Janis protests, shoving her back. “I just said I wasn’t gonna do that!”

“I don’t wanna get eaten by a rat!” Cady wails in mock terror, clinging to Janis dramatically. “Janis, save me!”

“The only rat I trust is Remy from Ratatouille,” Janis promises, squeezing Cady protectively. “I’d entrust you to him in a heartbeat. Hell, I’d entrust myself to that rat. If he can control a man, he’s good enough for me.”

“You hate men.”

“Exactly.” Janis grins, winking as she elbows Cady jokingly. “I want them all enslaved. Except Damian. He’s all right...I guess.”

“I’m sure he’s glad he means so much to you,” Cady laughs, settling back against Janis. “You never did tell me what’s so important that you actually cooked.”

“Be nice,” Janis whines, flicking her arm. “Actually, I wanted today to be a little more special than the lair of a rabid rat...it’s not an anniversary or birthday or anything, it’s just...me being weird, I guess...just wanted to tell you something that’s all…”

“As long as it’s not that you’re breaking up with me, I’m all ears,” Cady promises, watching Janis with interest. Her freckles pop in the sunlight, spotting her tan cheeks generously, her heart-shaped face framed by her curly auburn hair. After the drama with the Plastics, Cady bought back some of her old style, but kept other pieces from her time with Regina, blending them together into a sort of bisexual prep look that Janis reluctantly admits she’s highly attracted to. The hair is one of the holdovers from Regina, loose auburn waves tumbling over her shoulders. Something about staring into Cady’s eyes, taking in every detail of her face, both steels Janis’s nerves and weakens them simultaneously.

“So...um…” Janis blushes to the roots of her two-toned hair, deep red flooding her face with a surge of heat and a flutter in her stomach like a whole flock of butterflies. “I just wanted to tell you…” Before her nerves can bring her down, Janis forces out the words, determined to make this special date even more special. “I love you, Caddie.”

For a moment, silence hangs between them, shock showing plainly on Cady’s face. Her girlfriend has never been very good at hiding her emotions, but just once, Janis wishes she was, to spare herself the anticipation of waiting to interpret Cady’s obvious surprise.

Then Cady giggles. “Jan, did you really make me a special picnic date and take me all the way out here away from the city to tell me that? You’re such a dork, oh my God…”

“I am not - okay, maybe I am a little,” Janis admits a bit sheepishly, blushing even harder than before. “I just - I wanted it to be special…”

Cady laughs harder, squeezing Janis’s hand gently. “Janis, it’s you. That makes it special enough. And I love you too, if you were wondering.”

That makes Janis flush somehow even pinker, a dorky, giddy smile spreading over her face slowly, and then Cady laughs and elbows her and calls her a dork again, and this time Janis doesn’t argue.


	2. It's Okay

“Ronnie, please!”

Veronica sighs, the tension dropping out of her tight shoulders. As good as annoyance would make her feel, she can’t muster up any more than a feeling of deep, to-the-bone exhaustion. “Heather…”

“Ron, I’m trying to help, but you have to let me! You have to give me some vague idea of what you need help with! You’re just tired and depressed and miserable all the time and I don’t even know why, much less what to do with it! You kiss me, then everyone says you committed suicide, then a bomb goes off outside and you come in covered in ash, and now you won’t say more than three words to me in a row, and I don’t know how much longer I can do this!” Heather’s voice cracks, her round blue eyes pooling with tears as she stares miserably at Veronica. “I really don’t, Ronnie. I wanna be with you, but you’re making it so difficult...I don’t even know what your favorite animal is, much less why you suddenly hate everyone, apparently me included.”

Veronica stares at her helplessly, her lips hanging open weakly, no feeling in her body. She feels like she has since the bomb went off: numb and confused and trapped in slow motion in a world twice as fast as the one she used to know. Everyone else moves and talks and laughs and breathes and lives, and Veronica is trapped in a viscous syrup of time that holds her limbs and silences her screams.

“Say something,” Heather begs, wilting like a plant under Veronica’s helpless silence. “Say you hate me, say you’re breaking up with me, say it’s all my fault, say you never want to see me again. Just say something.”

And Veronica wants to. She wants to open her mouth and tell Heather about J.D. and the truth of what happened to Chandler and Kurt and Ram and everything that happened with the bomb and explain the numbness and the dissociation and the slowness. But she opens her mouth and her lips don’t feel like her own as she dully mutters “Something.”

Heather stares at her for a moment in shock before her pretty round face hardens into immovable granite. “Are you fucking kidding me, Veronica? You want me to leave, I’ll leave. You don’t have to trample my heart first. I get it. And I hope you’re fucking happy.”

And all Veronica can do is stare helplessly as Heather scoops her canary yellow purse from the couch and stride away as fast as her tiny legs can carry her, slamming the door behind her with an echoing boom that resounds in Veronica’s ears like a falling guillotine blade.

Deep down, she knows Heather’s right. Hell, on the surface, she knows Heather’s right. But she still doesn’t know how to break open the dam, and she can’t blame the other girl at all for running out of patience. Veronica has been playing with her love, and she should have known she’d eventually break the fragile little gift with which Heather had so innocently trusted her.  
Veronica only hesitates for a moment before taking her father’s whiskey bottle out from the wine cabinet. He uses it strictly for the occasional pick-me-up, but it’s been weeks since he’s had a glass, and she’s fairly confident he won’t miss it. Even if he does, she can’t bring herself to care. The lecture and grounding are a problem for future Veronica. Present Veronica only knows that she needs to stop feeling, and soon. What better way to kill pain than to drown it in a pool of liquor and dizziness and aching headaches?

Pain on the outside kills pain on the inside. Veronica’s known that since she jabbed herself with that damn cigarette in his car before school. Anything will go away if it hurts more somewhere else. Right now, Veronica needs to feel nothing, and the liquor will take her there.

The liquor burns her throat as it goes down. Veronica ignores the pain, swallowing roughly as the rim of the bottle clacks against her teeth in a particular violent swig. The more it hurts, the better. 

The whiskey is strong stuff, and Veronica’s never been able to hold her liquor, especially not on an empty stomach. Within fifteen minutes, the world spins languidly like a sadistic carousel under her feet, ballooning halos of light washing over her vision. At this point, she’s so far gone she should really just hide under her blankets in the safety of her bed, but the liquor clouds her mind worse than her vision and she staggers away from her room in search of something else to numb the pain.

The world pulses under her feet like a thumping heart, the carpet rolling like the waves of a frothing sea as Veronica stumbles forwards in search of something upon which she can’t put a name or a face. The void in her soul expands and darkens like the black holes spotting her vision, and it seems like nothing will ever fill the ache.

Here she is again, alone in an empty house, seeking comfort in her friend Jack Daniels. More often than not, her only solace is the smooth amber liquid she indulges in so regularly. It’s easier to hide behind a bottle than it is to face her demons.

What terrifies her the most, of all the things that leave her drenched in sweat, clinging to her pillow in the night like a scared little girl, is that she doesn’t even try to grab the handrail as the stairs fly out from underneath her trembling feet.

The fall feels like it takes hours. Down, down, down she tumbles, like the tunnel her mother read to her about in Alice in Wonderland. She half-expects to see a white rabbit hopping frantically down with her, checking his pocket watch and fretting about the time. Even Mr. Rabbit would be better than being alone in this perilous darkness. But white rabbits are for little girls who dream, not big girls whose dreams have all been shattered. Like a looking glass, Veronica thinks bitterly, the stories of Lewis Carroll still racing through her pounding head.

Finally, everything comes to a halt, leaving Veronica in a crumpled heap of blood and broken bones on the floor. Everything burns, so badly that she can’t tell what’s broken and what isn’t. Maybe this is what it feels like to die. Maybe this burning is her life draining away, seeping out onto her mother’s freshly polished floorboards, and in a few moments, all that will be left is a crumpled shell of who she used to be, the last little bit of light leaving her dull brown eyes.

If Veronica wanted pain, she certainly got her wish.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pain was the last thing she knew, and now it is the first. Her whole body burns with a dull ache that seems to reverberate through her bones, eliciting a whine of discomfort as Veronica blinks open her eyes. Bright lights instantly blind her, drowning her cloudy vision in dazzling white light. Veronica instantly yelps, closing her eyes again and attempting to cover her eyes. But her arm feels unusually heavy, impossible to pick up, and Veronica surrenders, hoping it doesn’t last. “If this is heaven,” she grouses, trying to collect her scattered thoughts. “Someone hit the dimmer on the celestial light or whatever.”

“Can’t,” a soft voice mumbles, immediately thickening the air with awkwardness. “No dimmer. And you’re not dead.” Whoever’s speaking doesn’t sound particularly sorry about that fact.

“Damn,” Veronica mutters, trying again to lift her arm. It still won’t move, heavy and clunky and annoying. “Where am I, then?”

“Sherwood First Baptist Hospital,” the voice offers, the sound changing as the speaker moves closer to Veronica. “Room 317, if you’d like specifics.”

Veronica tries to open her eyes again, more slowly this time, and now the light is slightly more bearable as she blinks rapidly, trying to adjust to the brilliant light washing over her. As her eyes adjust, the blurriness fades, revealing her arm to be encased in white plaster. Her leg matches her arm, cloaked in the same material and suspended in a brace, lifting it above her head. Her ribs burn as she tries to move, and Veronica senses bandages over them, limiting her movement. Broken, or at least some of them.

To distract herself from the pain, she turns her gaze to her visitor. Immediately, a wave of shock washes over her, leaving her gaping at the girl.

Heather looks exhausted, her skin chalky and eyes underlined in dark circles, like a yellow raccoon. Her usually flawless golden curls hang in limp, greasy ringlets, loosely held back by a plain black elastic. Her lips are bloody, probably from biting them, as she always does when she’s nervous. Her canary-yellow manicure is chipped and cracked, her perfectly matched skirt and blouse spattered with old coffee stains. Heather looks thirty years older than she did the night when she stood in Veronica’s living room, pleading with her, and a pang of guilt strikes Veronica for refusing to listen.

“Mac…?” Veronica mumbles in confusion, squinting suspiciously at her. “Am I hallucinating?”

“No.”

“On a lot of painkillers?”

“Well, yes, but not ones to cause delusions.”

“Dead?”

“Can dead people talk?”

“How would I know?”

“Look, you’re not dead or crazy,” Heather snaps, her voice tight with irritation and worry. “I’m actually here, in my actual body, talking to actual, alive Veronica.”

“Sounds like something a hallucination would say.”

“Shut up,” Heather orders, her voice grave and serious. “Not the time, Veronica.”

Veronica nods submissively, knowing she’s right. Heather’s presence makes no sense, but she won’t argue if it means her girlfriend - ex-girlfriend - is willing to talk. “Why are you here?”

“Someone had to be with you. No one should be in the hospital alone.” 

“Why do you care?” Veronica asks bluntly, averting her eyes from Heather’s round blue ones. 

“I -” Heather abruptly cuts herself off, her eyes flicking nervously around the room. “I just do, okay?”

“Okay, easy…” Veronica murmurs soothingly, wincing at the raw pain in Heather’s eyes. “I’m just trying to talk...you want that, right? For me to talk to you?”

“Wanted,” Heather snaps, her voice cracking slightly. “Now I just want you to leave me alone.”

“Is that really what you want?” Veronica asks gently, softening her voice as much as she can. “If it is, I’ll do it. But I want to know if that’s really what you want first.”

Now it’s Heather’s turn to be speechless, her mouth hanging open like a cod. Veronica doesn’t push her, waiting patiently for Heather to find her words. 

“I don’t know what I want,” Heather finally mutters hollowly, looking down at her crisp daffodil flats. “I don’t know anyone or anything when I’m with you, Veronica. You...you confuse me, so much, and I don’t know how much longer I can be confused.”

“What do I need to do to help you understand?” Veronica asks breathlessly, her eyes, unlike Heather’s, fixated on the other girl.

For a moment, the only sound piercing the heavy silence in the room is the whirring and beeping of the machines. Then Heather flops backwards in the hard oak chair, all the tension leaving her body like a taut rubber band relaxing. “Tell me why we’re here. What happened over senior year that put us here. The only way I can stop being confused is if I understand.”

A deep, heavy pit settles in Veronica’s stomach, like she’s swallowed a stone. “You really want to know? Fuck, I wish I didn’t.”

“I need to know,” Heather insists, finally lifting her eyes back to Veronica’s. “It’s not like you can un-know. The next best thing is we deal with it together.”

Veronica sighs, shutting her eyes briefly. As painful as it is to admit, Heather’s right. If anything, she really doesn’t want to be both alone and traumatized. 

“You knew J.D. Billy the Kid, remember? Trenchcoat, boots, the whole act. And as much as it pains me to say this, Kurt and Ram weren’t wrong. I was into it. Bad boy, you know? Exciting...different...nothing like the college guys Heather tried to get me to fuck. He was a lot of fun. I got interested...and then I got captivated, and then...the whole thing with Heather happened, and since my reputation was in a shithole anyway, I figured I might as well have a good time and fucked him. And then I was really hooked.

“We woke up the next day, and he...he was really sweet. He even went with me to go talk to Heather...he even handed me a cup of liquid drain cleaner. Nice good morning present.”

 

Veronica hears Heather’s startled gasp, but plows forwards, painfully aware that she’s not nearly done shocking Heather today. “I panicked...I had no idea what he’d done till she belly flopped through a coffee table. He talked me into writing up her suicide note, the police picked it up, and you know what happened after that.

“He talked me into thinking it was great, the world was better after she was gone...and I was a little too ready to believe him. As fucking awful as his methods were, I didn’t have the demon queen on my dick every second anymore, and it felt good to be free.

“Then Kurt and Ram made that bullshit story about me sucking them both off at the same time,” Veronica mumbles, disassociating from her words to keep them coming forwards. “And J.D. thought a little revenge might be fun. He told me he had these fake bullets...German, World War II relics. He said we could knock Kurt and Ram out, leave a humiliating note, and sit back and laugh. And I went with that too.”

Unable to draw her eyes to Heather’s, Veronica stares fixedly upon her cast, trying not to let the words hurt her any more than the actions they describe have. “Did you know there’s no such thing as Ich lüge bullets? Fucking German for “I’m lying,” Heather. Should have known better...didn’t think to hunt down a German dictionary beforehand.”

“I made him promise to stop,” Veronica mumbles weakly, still able to taste the desperation biting her tongue as she pleaded with her boyfriend. “But the pep rally...it was just too tempting. A whole school full of suicides...the depressed Woodstock of the 1960’s, all masterminded by Mr. Jason Dean himself. He couldn’t resist.

“I caught him in the boiler room with a little thing called a Norwegian, all primed and ready to set off packs of thermals all through the gym. Neat, dirty, and devastatingly effective. Kinda like a fire extinguisher to the back of the head. Or,” Veronica pauses, to laugh bitterly this time, the weight of the cold metal gun burning her hands even now. “A gunshot.”

“It was over. He knew he was gonna die anyway...he dragged his serious-as-fuck bomb outside and blew himself in multiple pieces to whatever the hell was waiting for him. And that, Heather, is why I am tired and depressed and miserable all the time.” Veronica falls silent, her chest heaving slightly like she’s just completed a series of sprints, her heart thumping in her chest at the same pace. She’s shocked Heather into silence, that’s for sure. 

For one long, unending moment, the only sound in the hospital room is the rhythmic whirring of the machines. Then Heather shifts a little in her seat, and her voice is subdued when she finally speaks.

“I’m sorry. For yelling.”

“I’m sorry too. For shutting you out,” Veronica mumbles, a surreal numbness floating her head off her shoulders. From either her painkillers or story, she’s not sure which. Probably a combination. 

And then Heather reaches over and gently scoops up the unbroken hand, squeezing it in her own lightly. Silence falls once more, but peaceful this time. Settled. The air is clear, and all there is to do is lay in silence, hands entwined.

And Veronica is a little less numb.


	3. A Heart Full Of Love

Janis taps her fingers anxiously on the table, her eyes fixed desperately on the swinging door of the restaurant. Her knee bounces worriedly as she waits in anticipation, rattling her silverware and sending ripples through the glass of ice water in front of her. Her other hand tugs nervously at the hem of the plum-colored dress she slipped on just for this, her heart sinking as she reluctantly comes to the realization that this was most likely all for nothing.

Just like the last date. And the one before that. And the one before that.

She signed up for Tinder after her high school sweetheart dumped her for Dartmouth College at the goddamn prom. Apparently “forever” doesn’t mean much in comparison to Ivy League. Heartbroken, lonely, and depressed, Janis turned to online dating for comfort.

She’s not sure what she expected, to be honest.

Janis sighs, shuffling her feet nervously as she does her best to ignore the sympathetic stares coming in waves from the strangers around her. She can’t bear to sit here alone, eating at a table for two while facing an empty chair. All she has to do is to find the most graceful way to extract herself from this situation and then she can go home and tug off the terrible goddamn heels she slipped on for some unfathomable reason and drown her sorrows in too much greasy delivery pizza and the new season of “Game of Thrones.”

She’s pulling her purse off the back of her chair, her cheeks flushing with shame, when-

“I am so sorry, babe,” an unfamiliar voice calls loudly from the other side of the room. “Traffic was a nightmare, and I forgot to plug my phone in, I couldn’t text...I’m so sorry.” And then she’s being hugged gently, lips pressed against her ear.

“Just go with it, yeah?” the voice whispers, and against her better judgement, Janis finds herself nodding agreement as she settles back into her seat, taking in her impromptu savior.

It’s a girl, about her own age, and at least four inches shorter. She has long, curly auburn hair and her milky skin is dotted with freckles like constellations. She’s in an aquamarine dress that shows off her muscled arms, a long, white scar running down her left forearm. Her blue eyes sparkle with mischief and enthusiasm, her eyelids lightly dusted with robin’s egg-blue eyeshadow.

“Hey,” she says softly, lowering her voice to protect their cover. “My name’s Cady. What’s yours?”

“J-Janis,” Janis stutters nervously, still trying to wrap her head around the whirlwind of this date. “I’m Janis...why are you…?”

“I don’t like seeing cute girls eating alone,” Cady replies smoothly, grinning at her. “I’ll leave it up to you if this is a fake date or a real date. Just give me a chance before you decide, yeah?’  
Janis nods in stunned agreement, staring at her new date. Cady grins at her mischievously. “You don’t have to look so freaked out. I’m not a serial killer or anything. If you like me, I’ll buy you dinner and give you my phone number, maybe even take you to a movie if you’re up to it. If you don’t, I’ll buy you dinner, thank you for keeping me company, and go on my way. Sound good?”

Janis nods shakily, trying to unfreeze her lips. “Sounds good.” She smiles hesitantly at her date, bouncing her knee nervously under the table. “So...um, what do you do?”

“I’m a math professor at Cornell,” Cady replies, smiling reassuringly at her. “I teach a lot of calculus. You?”

“Nerd,” Janis teases, nudging her lightly under the table. “I’m an art teacher. At the high school. Not Cornell. Not quite that talented.”

“I’m sure you’re great,” Cady replies, nudging her back. “What got you into art?”

“I was an artist in high school,” Janis replies with a shrug, shifting her toes nervously in her pinching shoes. “I guess I’m still technically an artist...I’m really good at arranging fruit for my students to paint. Does that count?”

“Art is art,” Cady replies, giggling at Janis’s response. “Fruit or otherwise. Do you still paint for yourself?”

“Sometimes,” Janis responds, delicately attempting to steer the conversation away from her art. “What got you into math?”

Cady shrugs nonchalantly, taking a sip of her crimson wine. “I grew up in Kenya. I didn’t have a lot of friends, so I taught myself math for fun. Turns out I’m pretty good at it.”

“So I was gonna call you a mega nerd, but now I have other questions,”Janis jokes. “How the hell did you end up in Kenya?”

“My parents were research scientists,” Cady answers, her own expression becoming slightly guarded as her parents come into the conversation. “Three years after I was born, they took a grant to study lions in Africa...Kenya, to be exact. We were there until I was sixteen.”

“That had to be lonely,” Janis ventures carefully, watching Cady’s expression carefully, ensuring that she’s not probing too far. “Was it just you?”

“I was the only American kid for miles around, yeah,” Cady replies, looking down into her wine. “It was lonely...peaceful, but lonely. I didn’t really bond with any of the Kenyan kids...I was mostly alone.”

“For thirteen years?” Janis reaches out slowly, extending her hand to the other girl across the linen-topped table. Cady looks like she could use a hand in her own.

“About,” Cady mumbles, and Janis gets the distinct feeling that her nonchalance is feigned. “What about you? Where are you from?”

“Chicago,” Janis answers, sipping from her own wine glass as she accepts Cady’s silent plea for a change of subject. Something about Cady’s quiet pain pressures her, pushing her to spill the true history behind her art instead of hiding behind a single-word answer. And despite how horribly she cringes at the idea, she finds herself following the whim. “I was born there and didn’t leave till after college...then I came up here. Looking for an art career...NYC is the place to go, if you have something like a bachelor’s degree in art. I worked for a few galleries, showed a few pieces, didn’t win anything, and finally gave up on that and went into teaching art.”

“I’m sorry,” Cady murmurs, squeezing Janis’s hand lightly. The candlelight glints off her neatly manicured rose-colored nails. “You should have had better. More chances.”

“I had my chances,” Janis shrugs, not quite meeting Cady’s eyes. “I lost them. Now I teach art. I’m lucky I get to do something at least a little like my dream.”

“I hope you get the whole dream someday,” Cady says quietly, and something about finally looking directly into her periwinkle eyes causes Janis’s stomach to give a funny lurch, like the sensation of the first drop of a roller coaster. 

They steer away from the heavy conversation over dinner, chatting lightly about their days and nights and lives. Avoid the past and future on a first date, Janis’s mom always advised her. Save those things for the ones who truly mean something. Don’t throw out your history or your hopes to anyone who might not want to come back to support you with them. And for the most part, Janis listens.

Cady insists on paying the bill, claiming it was part of the deal. She walks Janis to her car too, hands linked lightly as they walk out towards Janis’s small silver Nissan Versa. When they reach the car, even though dusk has fallen and the chill of the air stings Janis’s skin, a deep sadness wells within her at the thought of driving away without Cady. The other woman must feel the same way, because she catches Janis’s arm as she reaches reluctantly for her keys. “Can I see you again?” Cady asks softly, and a whole colony of butterflies flutter their wings excitedly in Janis’s stomach. 

“I’d love to see you again,” Janis replies, and then Cady presses a small white card into her black-gloved hand.

“Call me anytime. Or text, if the phone isn’t your thing. Just let me know when you’re free.” Janis nods agreement, slipping the little card safely into her pocket.

“I had a good time tonight,” Janis says a little awkwardly, shifting in her pinchy shoes. It’s been so long since she’s had a good date that she barely remembers how to end one. “Like, a really good time. Thank you for saving me from public humiliation.”

“I had a good time too,” Cady says softly, her pink-lipstick smile showing off just a hint of her pearly white teeth. “And we’ll have an even better time when I see you again.”

And then Cady is on her toes, her warm lips pressed softly against Janis’s cool cheek. Despite the evening chill, a burst of warmth like a firework shoots through Janis’s entire body at the kiss, sparks flying from the tip of her toes to the top of her head.

And then Janis is alone by her car, Cady’s auburn hair swishing behind her as she makes her way home. Still slightly dazed, Janis shakes herself slightly, slipping into the driver’s seat of her car.

As she adjusts the mirror slightly, she catches a glimpse of her cheek. A faint pink imprint remains over her skin, boldly declaring that she, Janis Sarkisian, likes a girl, and, better yet, the girl likes her back.

Janis takes one more moment to gaze at the soft lipstick kiss on her cheek before beginning the drive home.


	4. Found You

Cady is five years old when the first one appears.

The connection between her and her soulmate has been formed.

It's a little thing, barely a nick. But Cady definitely didn't have a crescent-shaped red mark on her eyebrow when she went to sleep the night before.

"I wonder what he managed to do," her mom says, smiling proudly and tracing the little nick. "Looks like you're in for plenty of marks, kiddo."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Janis doesn't get hers till she's seven.

Seven is late, but she's just happy she has one at all. She feels bad, though, for whoever has to get stuck with her as their soulmate. She knows she's not very interesting, her classmates make sure she knows that.

But at least they can't tease her about not being worth a soulmate anymore.

It's a long red line across her forearm, like a claw mark. Maybe her soulmate has a cat. That could be okay. Janis likes cats. They're soft and fluffy and don't say mean things to her.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cady is eight when the first really big mark crops up. It nearly sends her into a panic.

"Mommy, Mommy, look!" she wails, staring at her stomach in distress. "Look, my soulmate's gonna die!"

Her mother rushes to her side. "Oh, honey, if your soulmate were dead, the little nick on your forehead would fade off. I'm sure he's just fine. That's an appendectomy scar. He had appendicitis and had to get surgery, that's all."

"Are you sure?" Cady asks, blinking her huge blue eyes worriedly.

"Positive. See, your little moon-shaped nick is still there. He's okay."

Cady breathes a sigh of relief. "Good."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Janis is twelve when her first really big mark appears. It worries her, but she doesn't want to bother her mom with something like that, not while she's still staying up till midnight every night filling out the divorce papers.

Instead she asks her science teacher. Ms. Fleur is nice enough and generally accepts questions from students about the marks.

"I know it's stupid," Janis says shyly, forcing down her anxiety. "Just...it's on my throat, and-"

"Oh, that's normal. Tonsillitis. He had his tonsils out. That's all. It's a very minor procedure. He'll be just fine."

"Oh. Thanks. Thank you."

She doesn't mention that she's pretty sure her soulmate will be a girl.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cady is thirteen when a set of long, thin lines appear on her thigh.

"Mom, what's this?" she asks gingerly, afraid of how so many came so soon. "What happened?"

Cady's mom lets out a pained gasp when she sees the marks. "Oh, honey...oh, honey. He - he did it himself. On purpose."

Cady gasps in horror. "Who would do something like that? Cut open their own skin?"

"Some people have an illness, called depression. It can make them do things like that. Don't try it, baby, it doesn't help. And maybe cover the marks. Don't worry about it for now, honey. Try to ignore it."

Cady wears shorts that cover the marks. But every day, she wakes up finding more. Many more. Everywhere. On her arms, her legs, her stomach. Everywhere she can think to look, she finds the thin little lines.

She tries not to look. But every night, she closes her eyes and thinks about her soulmate, making the cuts that appear on her body, and cries a little for them, wishing they weren't in so much pain.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Janis feels a little guilty about marking her soulmate so obviously and frequently.

But not guilty enough to stop.

Sometimes she thinks her soulmate will reciprocate, try to give her some embarrassing mark as revenge for all the marks. 

She doesn't.

Janis still gets the little nicks and scrapes and cuts that come with everyday life, but nothing bigger than the jagged line that appeared across her forehead one day, like her soulmate had crashed into a branch.

But one day, Janis wakes up to find a Sharpie message on her hand.

It's small, simple. Not much to it. A little pink heart, drawn to perfection, surrounded by tiny little stars. Written underneath, in perfect cursive, is "Love you."

It makes her smile a little to see it.

Every day, Janis wakes up to find a new heart, somewhere on her body. On her ear, at the base of her throat, on her elbow, her back, her stomach, her legs. A little pink heart.

If she cuts a little less after the hearts start showing up, that's between her and her soulmate.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cady is fourteen when she wakes up to find messy splotches of red on her arm. 

As she puzzles over the splashes of red, they solidify into letters.

"Space dyke."

It's not Sharpie.

Cady runs to show her mom, shaking with apprehension as to what's happening. Her mom takes her arm in her hands, tilting her head. "Space...dyke - oh God. Why - what-"

"What does this mean?" Cady asks breathlessly, staring at her mom, hoping for answers.

"I don't know," Cady's mom sighs. "Why a guy would cut 'space dyke' into his arm, I don't know. Just...just wait and see, I guess."

Cady waits and sees. But she can't do nothing.

She covers her body in the little pink hearts, in scribbles of stars and unicorn heads and moons and sparkles and "love yous" and everything else she can think of to draw, sprinkling her skin with them like freckles, ignoring the strange looks it gets her, especially when she asks her friend Hasnaa to write them on her back and neck and left arm.

Lastly she scratches out the word "space dyke" from her skin, covering it in a thick layer of black Sharpie. When the black marker dries, she gets Hasnaa to paint over it with traditional tribal paint, all the symbols meaning love and light and protection and the promise that one day, everything will be okay.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Janis wakes up in the hospital, her stomach aching from the pump, almost too tired to keep her eyes open.

And then she sees the explosion of color her body has become.

Every inch of her pale skin is sprinkled with little doodles, the hearts she's come to love and so many more, popping against her pallid skin like butterflies against a tree.

Her arm, where she cut the cruel taunt she's heard so many times, has been transformed.

Heavy black marker covers the cruel words, blotting them from view like blackout curtains blocking out the sun. Chalky paint has been applied expertly over the marker, in delicate symbols like glyphs.

Janis traces the little paintings in wonder, admiring the skill that went into them. They're beautiful.

Someone out there cares about her.

Someone out there cares about her enough to do this, to see the cuts and worry and try to help.

Knowing that makes her feel a little better.

There's some paint in her room, and some paper. Maybe she'll try to recreate the painting on her arm, so she can see it forever. 

Maybe.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cady is sixteen when they move back to the States.

She still draws a heart every day.

Her soulmate has taken to finding the hearts where Cady hides them and writing underneath in messy print in what looks like pen ink, "found you." It makes Cady giggle. Sometimes she'll be riding the Jeep or walking to get water or spending time with her friends and she'll see the little black squiggles appear, and her heart feels like it's expanding in her chest.

It's a nice feeling.

After her first day of American school, Cady has much more understanding for her soulmate's previous decisions. Fourteen years of this and she'd be going a little crazy too.

Janis and Damian are all right, though. They're the best parts of the school.

That weekend, they're at Janis's house, watching a movie Janis insists is essential to existing in America and Damian insists is one of the more shameful parts of their history. Cady's never seen Spaceballs, but it makes her laugh until her sides feel like they're going to split.

As the credits start to roll, Cady digs the pink Sharpie out of her pocket and pulls her tank top away from her shoulder.

"Caddie, what the fuck are you doing?" Janis snorts.

"Oh. It's just - something I do. For my soulmate. I hide a pink heart somewhere on my body every day for them to find, and they've started writing back...it's just a thing we do, I guess. You probably think it's weird."

Janis's face goes as still as a rock, the blood draining from her face. "Jan, you okay?" Cady asks, eyeing her as she draws on the heart.

Janis slowly pulls away her own sleeve, checking her own shoulder. There it is. The little pink heart.

"...Jan?"

 

Shakily, Janis fishes the black pen out of her pocket and writes it on her shoulder. "Found you."

Cady checks her shoulder and gasps, the Sharpie slipping from between her fingers. "Are we-"

"Found you," Janis mumbles shakily, too shy to look Cady in the eyes.

Cady gently pushes herself up onto her knees, reaching out to Janis's shoulder. "May I?"

Janis nods slowly, still shaking with anxiety. She never imagined this moment would be like this, so awkward, so weird, and with all the marks she's put on Cady...

Cady's soft, warm fingers trace the drawing on Janis's shoulder, the messily scribbled words. "Found you," she whispers playfully, drawing her fingers over the curves of the heart.

Janis leans forward slowly, closing her eyes, preparing herself. Cady closes the gap without hesitation. Their lips meet softly.

Cady tastes like popcorn and Coke and strawberry lip gloss. Her lips are soft and warm and just a little dry. No one has ever kissed Janis before. This one more than makes up for all the ones she didn't get in earlier years while all the other girls were frantically trying to get their first kisses.

Cady pulls back, her hand stroking Janis's cheek gently. Janis is relieved to see that she's smiling.

"Soulmates," she says gently, squeezing Janis's hand in her spare palm.

"Soulmates," Janis repeats quietly, looking into Cady's beautiful blue eyes. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

"So how'd you get this?" Cady asks, pressing Janis's hand to the small crescent on her eyebrow.

"Really? That was your first one? Kind of a waste of a first mark, honestly. My dad had been drinking, and he threw a lamp at the wall, and it kinda shattered, and a piece nailed me in the forehead. Didn't even bleed much. Cried like a little bitch though."

"Janis..." Cady frowns, her eyes sad. For a second she squeezes Janis's hand, communicating all the love in her eyes. "I guess you want to hear about yours?'

Janis gives her a quick, grateful smile, glad that she's dropped the subject. "Yeah, that'd be great. I always figured you had a cat." She rolls back her sleeve, revealing the mess of old scars, the long red line standing out clearly beneath.

"Oh! That was yours? I didn't get that till I was like seven!" Cady exclaims.

"Yeah, mine started kinda late."

"Well, you're not too far off with the cat part. I was in the Jeep on a safari mission, and a lioness saw the red meat we had with us, and tried to snatch some, and got my arm in the process."

"What? No way! You got clawed by a lion?"

"True story. Jan, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Do you show everyone your scars this easily?"

Cady's eyes are serious, grave with concern. Even now, Janis feels the familiar rush of guilt for marking her body so carelessly.

"No," she admits quietly, dropping her gaze. She can't meet Cady's eyes. "But I figure...well, you already know where they all are, I gave them to you too. You might as well see the originals."

Cady suddenly kisses her, hard, sending her toppling over backwards, her hair falling in a fan around her, Cady pressed on top of her, kissing her like she's never been kissed before, kissing her like no one in the universe has ever been kissed before, making her dizzy on the intoxicating scent of her lavender shampoo.

"Thanks," Cady breathes, breaking away for a moment. "That was all I wanted to know."

And then before Janis can speak, before she can even being to claw words together from the muddled mess of her brain, Cady's kissing her again, and she lets her brain dissolve into mush, because who needs to think when you're getting kissed by the most beautiful soulmate in the world.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Janis draws all over her arms. All day, every day, tracing every visible inch of her skin in ink, flowers and hearts and stars and other things too, anything at all she can think of, knowing it makes Cady smile to see the beautiful drawings forming on her arms as she goes about her day.

Cady uses her own skin as a kind of shopping list/schedule/to-do list. She scribbles down anything and everything, frantic, hurried notes, so Janis often knows better than she does when her next dentist appointment is and whether or not the Herons are out of eggs.

Janis, sometimes, when she gets bored, tries to follow Cady around by deciphering the frantic scribbles on her arms. It'll take her all over Evanston, to school, the gym, the park, Wal-mart, the pet shop, Damian's house...who knows what Cady will have written down, where Janis will have to track her? But in the end, she always sees Cady's familiar mane of auburn hair and pulls out the Sharpie, sketching over her forearm in big, spiky letters the two words that mean the most to them. 

"Found you."

And Cady will look up, glancing around, looking for Janis, her eyes lighting up when she sees her girlfriend a few feet away, smiling at her.

Soulmates.

Pink hearts.

Found you.


	5. Talk To Me

"Mac, something's bothering you."

"W-what? No..." Heather mumbles, glancing away from her girlfriend. "I - I don't know what you're talking about..."

"Mac, please. I may be an idiot, but I'm not stupid. What's the matter?"

"You're not going to give up, are you?" Heather asks softly, still refusing to meet Veronica's eyes.

"Nope," Veronica says cheerfully, sitting next to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "You might as well go ahead and tell me, Mac. It'll save me a lot of energy and you a lot of pestering."

Heather sighs, shoving her playfully. "Fine. Since you're so convincing, I'll tell you."

"Good," Veronica says happily, her face then turning somber. "You can trust me, Mac. I love you."

"I love you too, Ronnie. You see - the thing is - I -"

Veronica squeezes her hand encouragingly, nodding for her to continue.

"I've been diagnosed with anxiety," Heather spills out in a rush. "That's why...the lifeboat...I have a mental disorder that makes me so nervous about everything. So I - I have to go to therapy now. And...yeah. That's...that's what's bothering me."

Veronica stays silent for a moment, her arm tightening around Heather's shoulders. Then she nods. "Okay. That's...that's okay. That's good, actually. You know, now, why you're so nervous...you can start working on it."

Heather nods, leaning her head on Veronica's shoulders. "You're - you're okay with that?"

"Of course I'm okay with it," Veronica replies softly, kissing her hair. "I'd have to be a real bitch not to be okay with it. I'm totally cool with it, because I love you, all of you. I promise."

Heather nods again, feeling herself untense. "Thanks, Ronnie. I - I love you, too."

No more words are exchanged, just soft silence, the two girls curled together, holding each other on the bed. No more words are needed.


	6. Daydream

One of the inevitable difficulties of being with Janis is the trauma of her childhood, and how it continues to weigh down on her every day, in little ways and big ways, in sudden sharp breaths at the sight of a knife to nightmares that wake her up screaming to the way Janis automatically steps between Cady and her father when their arguments get heated, even as she visibly trembles from head to toe at the sight of his figure towering over her.

And Cady can handle all that. She knew what she was getting into when she agreed to go out with Janis, and she can handle it. But that doesn’t mean she’s gotten accustomed to the fright that gleams in Janis’s eyes. She doesn’t think she ever will.

Cady settles comfortably against the couch cushions, running her fingers through her girlfriend’s silky brown hair mindlessly. Janis’s favorite place in their house, besides the bed anyway, is the couch, where she lays her head in Cady’s lap, humming contentedly in pleasure at the stroking. Cady lays back against the soft couch cushions, enjoying the soothing feel of Janis’s soft, clean hair slipping through her fingers, the pleasant, steady weight in her lap. They sit together in peaceful, contented silence, Cady’s free hand entwined with Janis’s, relaxing as the golden sun streams through their windows, warming the room and shining over their bodies. It’s a good day to be lazy, and they’re comfortable enough in each other’s arms that laziness seems like the best plan for this one special day, where no one has work or class or anything other than each other.

“Mm…” Janis moans a little, blinking open her soft brown eyes with more than a little effort. “Mm...Caddie, you’re the best…”

“Thanks, love,” Cady murmurs, bending to kiss her forehead. “You’re the best too.”

“You’re the better best,” Janis counters, tugging Cady down by her shirt collar for a longer, lingering kiss. “I know this is shocking, but...I actually kinda wanted to talk today…?”

“You don’t have to ask my permission to talk, love,” Cady points out. “It’s a free country, you know.”

“Debatable,” Janis mutters bitterly, shaking her head briskly to rid herself of the negative thoughts that cloud her mind whenever she considers the news. “I mean, like...about some stuff...you know...maybe not so pleasant. It’s okay if it’s not a good time…”

“It’s always a good time if you feel like you need to talk,” Cady says gently, pressing another feather-light kiss to Janis’s forehead, and this time Janis doesn’t pull her in for more, simply accepting Cady’s love the way it’s given. 

“I guess…” Janis sighs heavily, looking up into Cady’s clear blue eyes. “I’ve been thinking a lot about my dad lately…”

Cady hums sympathetically, squeezing Janis’s hand at the mention of her father. She’s never actually met Mr. Sarkisian, and she’s only heard of him in the occasional story Janis manages to gasp out between sobs during her flashbacks. And quite frankly, she’s all right with that. As she’s told Janis so many times, the man who shares her genes may have given her half her chromosomes, but that’s all he’s ever done for her, and he doesn’t deserve the privilege of being anything other to her than a fading memory of a bad dream. Janis agrees, agrees that he’s not her dad, but she still can’t shake the habit of referring to him by that name, and Cady doesn’t try to correct her. Janis will heal in her own time, and in her own way, and it might be what appears to Cady a very slow process, but it’s not her process to undergo, and interceding in it may undo all the hard work Janis has poured into filling in the cracks her father’s fists left in her life.

“And I’m not very good at that...usually I have to go cry or throw up when I do...but I’m trying to get better about that...come to terms with it, I guess...if you know what I mean? Like, not, enjoy it, or anything, obviously not like that, but try to, you know...to accept it, that it happened, and that nothing’s going to change that, and that he didn’t - didn’t love me, that I was just a broken condom to him, and that’s not going to change either, and that...that everyone’s happier because he’s not around anymore. Holly is and Mom is and his new family probably is and I - I am, Caddie, and that’s really hard for me to say, because I feel like I should be sadder, more upset and broken and wanting to fix it, but I don’t, and I’ve built a life without my father, and I - I’m okay with that, Caddie. I’m happy, and I’m engaged to the most beautiful woman in the world, and I live somewhere I’m really, really happy, with someone I’m really really happy with, and I have a dog, and a cat, and a job, and a life, a life without my dad. And it’s been really, really hard for me to accept that I’m okay with that, that I’m okay with not having a dad, but I am, and...Caddie? Damn, does it feel good.”

Janis blushes a little, clearly a bit embarrassed at the flood of words that have flown from her mouth into the air between them. “Um...yeah. So that’s what I...wanted to talk about, I guess...nice weather today, huh?”

Cady laughs at that, gently tugging on a strand of Janis’s hair to watch her nose crinkle up like a rabbit at the pulling. “I think trying to move on is a really good idea, Jan, and I think you’re really brave for trying, and really strong for managing to do it. You’ve had a hard run, Jan, but you’re in the clear now...I’ll always be here to help you out, okay? No matter where we live or what we have, you’ll always have me around, annoying you with my weird habits and obsessively cleaning up your messes as you make them.”

Janis giggles a little, recalling Cady’s overwhelming aversion to mess in any way, shape or form. “Good luck getting rid of me, babe. I’ll be here, spoiling TV shows and eating soup with a fork, and you’ll only dream of me leaving you one day.”

“I’ll dream of that when you manage to successfully eat soup with a fork,” Cady shoots back, affectionately smacking Janis’s shoulder before returning her attentions to her hair.


	7. I’m a Haunted House

Bombs leave scars.

One of the most devastating effects of a bomb is the consequences on the internal workings of the human body. The force of the explosion can rupture organs from the inside, tearing apart the body inside and out.

And maybe, Veronica thinks to herself as she stares at her bloodied black shoes, that’d hurt less.

Sticky red liquid drips down her cheek. Hers or JD’s? Doesn’t really matter. They’re one and the same anyway. 

Bombs leave scars, and while JD may have sustained significantly more physical damage, Veronica can feel hers stinging, on her cheek and in her soul.

She doesn’t pay much attention to the questions. Duke chases after her for a bit, squawking like a cherry red chicken, that ridiculous scrunchie bobbing on her head like a stupid little hat. Finally, Veronica rips it off her head - she’d doing her a favor anyway, she looks even more like a chicken with it wobbling up there - and Duke storms away in a huff, mumbling something about “losers,” and all Veronica can think is cluck, cluck, cluck.

The scrunchie weighs heavy in her hand, weighted down with all the power in the crunched scarlet fabric. She could put it in now, shining bright through the strands of her thick, dark hair, and become the new Heather Chandler. Westerberg is full of sheep, and becoming the shepherd isn’t any more than taking the rod. 

 

But the idea of resurrecting Heather yet again makes her feel sick to the very pit of her stomach, last night’s broccoli and liverwurst churning nauseatingly as she stares at the scrunchie. The voice of the blond demon queen hisses in her ear yet again, and this time she’s not dreaming as the sound rattles around in her head. You won’t be able to handle it either. You’ve never had what I had. You’re a Girl Scout cookie, and this school is gonna eat you alive.

And then there’s another soft voice, mingling with the hissing, and the scrunchie falls noiselessly to the floor as Veronica’s head snaps up. And then her fractured brown eyes meet a pair of worried periwinkle ones, and Mac is reaching for her hand.

Memories flood back, memories of yellow pills scattered across a bathroom floor, tears soaking her shoulder...lips meeting, and then again, and again, and again…

She’s positive she’s going to be sick now, and she can’t bring herself to care that she’ll make a mess or that Mac is watching, or that it’s stupid to be making herself sick over a scrunchie. A strangled gag makes its way out of her aching, smoke-stung throat and the liverwurst splatters onto the floor, her stomach rising in revolt.   
The next thing she knows she’s doubled over, bracing her hands on her knees, and her thick hair has been pulled away from her face, a warm hand firmly patting her back. Mac holds her steady until the stream of bile tapers away to nothing and then gently wipes her mouth with her handkerchief, hand still resting on her back.

Bone-tired and shocked and grieving just a little, Veronica slumps against the smaller girl, sighing a little as gentle fingers comb through her hair. Soft, lipstick-sticky lips press lightly against her forehead, and then she’s led slowly back through the school and tucked into the backseat of Mac’s Mercedes-Benz. Her dad is loaded, she remembers dully, barely caring as Mac pushes her to lay down, her head resting on genuine black leather seats. 

Mac doesn’t seem to know where to go, so she goes home. Veronica doesn’t pay much attention to her house, stumbling forwards blindly, guided by Mac’s slender arm. She allows herself to drift away, floating on the clouds of dreamland, until cold water shocks her back to real life. Mac pushes her down to sit, cleaning the ash and soot and blood from her face and hands. Veronica offers no resistance, staring blankly at the blue tiles behind Mac’s shoulder as the dust of the boiler room is washed away by the gentle touch of a wet washcloth.

She must be so confused. She must have so many questions. What was the explosion and where is JD and why is Veronica covered in ash and why is she bleeding and why did Veronica kiss her in the bathroom and what really happened to Heather and a million other things that Veronica can’t even possibly began to answer right now. She might not get answers ever. But Mac doesn’t press her for words, doesn’t speak at all, only cleans her wounds and bandages her cheek and clucks a little like a motherly hen at the bruises on her hands. And Veronica is more grateful for her easy silence than anything else Mac has provided her with today.

At last, Mac contents herself with Veronica’s level of cleanliness and then there are clothes, soft yellow things that don’t fit quite right, but she couldn’t be bothered as she slips into a pair of Mac’s old pajamas, relaxing into the sweet, familiar scent of her perfume. Then she’s shuffled down the hallway, Mac’s tiny rat terrier, Buttons, nipping at her ankles and darting between her feet inquisitively all the way down to Mac’s room.

Veronica’s been to Mac’s house a few times, but not recently, and the sheer canary yellow of her bedroom startles her every time. Everything from the walls to the sheets is the shade of a lemon, and it’s jarring how much yellow Mac has managed to fit in one space. Gently, Mac pushes aside a banana-colored teddy bear from a stack of yellow pillows, making space on the bed for two.

Mac pushes Veronica down slowly and then gently clambers in behind her, lifting up a yipping Buttons as well after a few moments of pleading. The dog sleepily crawls over them, flopping into the curve of Veronica’s body and curling up to sleep, the dull warmth of the soft animal calming her slightly. It’s peaceful in this room, quiet except for the buzzing of the air conditioner, cooling them as they curl together.  
Veronica gets the sense that Mac expects nothing of her, but a need burns in her own chest to thank her for all her help today. There are a million words that could pour out of her mouth right now, but she can’t string any together or force them out of her protesting lips and all she manages to croak out is a strangled “love you…” before merciful sleep carries her away from JD on the tides of time.

And she knows that Mac understood.


	8. Teach Me

It’s in History class on June 28th that Janis raises her hand in class.

Janis likes history, but her anxiety keeps her from raising her hand. So Cady’s head turns when Janis’s hand shoots up, the light glinting off her black nail polish as she waits attentively to be called on.

“Ms. Sarkisian?”

“What are you going to tell us about Stonewall?” Janis spits out immediately, bouncing slightly in her seat, kicking at the legs of her hard plastic chair. Cady’s never seen her so antsy.

“Stonewall?” Mr. Johnson replies, raising his thick, bushy eyebrows in confusion. “Stonewall is not on this year’s curriculum, Ms. Sarkisian, as it was not every year since you began attending this school.”

“So you’re just not gonna teach it?” Janis spits, her eyes starting to blaze with anger Cady doesn’t understand. “You’re just gonna pretend it never happened?”

“It is not on the curriculum, Ms. Sarkisian, and therefore is not taught in this class. Now, if we could return to school-approved material, please direct your attention the Vietnam War…”

Janis slumps down into her seat, not even bothering to attempt taking a few notes, her shoulders hunched forwards miserably. Damian leans forward and pats her shoulder gently, giving it a light squeeze before returning to his paper. Cady tentatively offers Janis her hand, but her girlfriend doesn’t take it, her two-toned hair curtaining her face and hiding it from view.

Cady sighs heavily and bends back over her own paper, scribbling down notes about various casualties in the Vietnam war. She’s never heard of this Stonewall thing, not even once. Why does Janis care so much?

“What’s Stonewall?” Cady asks later, curled up on the old couch in Janis’s garage art studio, watching her girlfriend paint. She’s working on something for a show, a painting of Cady’s curly-haired Bichon Frise, Brandi. The painting is coming along well, already fully outlined and the background is quickly falling into place.

Janis stiffens slightly, slowly lowering the brush. “Are you serious, Caddie?”

“Yes!” Cady insists, nodding for emphasis. “I’ve never heard of it, but you made it sound like it was a really big deal. What is it?”

Janis sighs heavily, plopping her paintbrush into its cup. “It’s complicated, Caddie...I was really hoping this would finally be the year that they’d put something in schools, just something, something validating, some part of our history...but it’s not, and it’s my senior year, and I won’t ever get taught any of my history in school, and now you get to have it explained to you by a seventeen-year-old lesbian who got all her information off Wikipedia.”

“I love my brilliant seventeen-year-old lesbian,” Cady replies teasingly, kissing Janis’s cheek lightly before settling into her girlfriend’s lap, something she has permanent permission to do when Janis isn’t painting. “Teach me your wisdom, my darling.”

Janis smiles briefly at her kiss before wrapping her arms around Cady’s waist, squeezing her lightly. “Long story short, Stonewall was when the LGBT community finally got tired of being stepped on. Police raided a gay bar and that really just snapped the little bit of peace that was left. There was a series of riots...and that’s all I know. All I know. What I found on Wikipedia...and I don’t even know if I can trust that. I can’t find any sources I trust...anything. Nothing agrees...all I want to know is what happened.”

She props her chin on Cady’s shoulder, squeezing her like a teddy bear. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you more.” Her voice wavers slightly as she tightens her arms around Cady’s waist, her breaths shaky and hitched.

“Hey…” Cady murmurs gently, cupping Janis’s chin in her hand. “Hey, baby. Don’t be sad...when you’re sad, it makes me sad, and no one should be sad. We can learn more. We’ll learn more together, okay?”

“H-how…?” Janis sniffles, resting her chin in Cady’s hand, blinking up at her with her huge doe eyes. “I’ve tried…”

“I haven’t yet,” Cady says firmly, kissing her firmly on the lips. “My parents are scientists. I’m very good at research. I’ll take you to the library on a study date soon, okay? We’ll find out the truth, no matter how long it takes.”

Janis smiles hesitantly at her, pressing her lips against Cady’s again. “You really think you can…?”

Cady nods immediately, poking her in the stomach to cheer her up. “Of course I can. I’m a genius, remember?”

Janis laughs at that, the sadness vanishing from her face. “You really are, Caddie. Fuck the painting, I wanna hold you.”

“You wanna fuck something else instead?” Cady teases, brushing her lips softly over Janis’s. 

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” Janis orders, shoving her playfully, her other arm keeping her steady. “That’s where I’m supposed to be. Now stop being ridiculous and kiss me, you goddamn adorable genius.”

Cady is more than happy to oblige.


	9. Only Fools Fall in Love

Damian’s least favorite wake-up experience is his ringtone.

Cady’s not comfortable with making phone calls, and Janis “would rather eat her own eyeballs with a rusty spork” than have a phone conversation, or so she screeched at Damian when he called her to invite her over for dinner. Phone calls are never good, especially when it’s Cady’s name appearing on the screen.

Hesitantly, Damian swipes to answer, lifting the phone to his ear. “Cads? Everything okay?”

“No!” Cady exclaims huffily, real panic hiding behind her irritation. “No, everything is not okay!”

“Okay, easy,” Damian says soothingly, already tugging his tennis shoes on. “What’s the matter, Cads?”

“Janis is still sick!” Cady hisses, her voice more frazzled than Damian has ever heard it. “She’s still sick and her mom is still on a business trip and I am still trying to keep this house together and I need you to come cuddle Janis!”

“You need me to what?” Damian questions, freezing halfway through tying his magenta shoelaces. “Why can’t you do that?”

“Damian, she won’t get off me!” Cady huffs irritably. “I can’t do anything I need to do and Janis won’t let me get up and there are things that aren’t being done and I need to do them or I’m going to lose my mind and I need you to come deal with Janis so I can do them!”

Cady’s voice is now borderline frantic, a hint of tears lurking at the back of her throat. “Shh, Cads,” Damian murmurs soothingly, tramping towards the front door. “I’m coming, okay? I’m on my way, I’ll be right there...just lay back, try to breathe, okay? I’m coming to help. Reinforcements are on the way, my dear.”

On the other end, Cady giggles weakly, her breathing becoming slightly less labored. “Soon…?”

“Ten minutes,” Damian promises. “You can do your own girlfriend cuddling for ten more minutes, right?”

“Y-yeah,” Cady says shakily, her voice trembling. “I can. Just...hurry?”

“I’ll run like the wind,” Damian swears, shutting the door before ending the call.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cady is propped up against Janis’s headboard, her girlfriend shivering in her arms. Cady holds her closely, clearly trying not to let her irritation show on her face, even as her fingers tap impatiently on Janis’s back. “Oh, thank God,” she mumbles upon seeing Damian’s face, already trying to maneuver Janis out of her arms. “Just take her, please…”

“Caddie, don’t go..” Janis whines, clinging to her like an octopus. “I don’t want you to leave...you’re warm…”

“Jan, I’ve got to get up, laundry hasn’t been done in four days!” Cady retorts, trying even harder to push herself up, despite her girlfriend’s protests. “I’ll come back later, I promise-”

“Caddie, I’m not trying to be annoying, I’m cold!” Janis wails, her eyes bright with fever as she clings to Cady. “I’m cold, I’m so, so cold, and you’re the only thing that makes me warmer, and I don’t want you to leave!”

Cady sighs in exasperation, flopping unceremoniously back onto the bed as Janis drags her back down. “Her fever is high, she’s getting chills,” she mumbles by means of explanation, half-heartedly nudging at Janis. “Apparently nothing helps but body heat...my body heat.”

Janis nods pitifully, nosing her way further into Cady as she shivers slightly from the chills. “Please don’t go…”

Damian stares helplessly down at the couple, a war raging in his head. He could, and probably should, scoop up Janis and hold her for Cady while she accomplishes whatever her anxious brain needs to accomplish. Janis wouldn’t fight him, and he could soothe Cady’s ruffled feathers. But something feel wrong about it, like he’s trespassing on something important.

When Janis first rushed at Damian after Spring Fling and screeched that she’d kissed Cady, Damian had known that things were going to change. And they have, mostly for the better. Janis’s eyes shine with a new, sparkly light that he never saw before, and the way she looks at Cady destroys any sappy rom-com gaze. She smiles more often now, showing all her teeth, and she’s not nearly as anxious as before. And Cady’s better too. Her OCD-tendencies aren’t as prevalent in her life, and Janis is slowly, steadily leading Cady out of her shell and teaching her to embrace the strange new world she’s been introduced to. Damian can already tell that this is the real thing, and that in a few years’ time, he can most likely expect to be helping Janis choose a ring for their jungle freak.

And these are all good changes, and Damian is happy for the two of them, that they’ve found the love of their lives. But there’s other changes too, ones that are harder. The hardest of all is that he’s not Janis’s number one anymore. 

If he has to play second fiddle to someone, he’s happy that it’s someone who treats Janis the way she deserves to be treated. She could do a lot worse than Cady. But even for Cady, Damian’s a little reluctant to split looking after his best friend with someone else.

He talked to Cady, of course, a few days after the dance. He still remembers her that day, too happy to stand still, draped in one of Janis’s oversized jackets. She’d eagerly sworn she’d always be around to protect Janis, and there hadn’t been a hint of dishonesty or hesitation in her words.

But now it’s time to really accept that he’s not always what Janis needs now. And it’s causing an ache in his heart of which he wasn’t even slightly prepared for the ferocity.

“Give me a list, Cads,” he manages, and it sounds strained even to him. “What do you need me to do?”

“Just keep her warm for me,” Cady answers, attempting again to evict Janis from her arms. “I - Damian, I need to get this done, I can’t stand not having it done-”

“And it will be,” Damian interrupts. “Tell me everything you need me to do. I’ll do it. I’ll get it done. You stay here with Jan.”

“You don’t have to do that, I can handle it-” Cady protests weakly, but he can already see her softening, her arms shifting lovingly around Janis. “You don’t have to do all the work, you can hold her-”

“Cads,” Damian interrupts, switching to ASL so that Janis doesn’t know what passes between them. “She doesn’t need me right now. She needs you. She’s sick and she’s cold and she really just needs her girlfriend to hold her. I’m not what’s best for her right now. Just tell me what you need. Please.”

Cady sighs, staring for a moment before letting her shoulders slump, relaxing. “Laundry needs to be done, there’s dirty dishes in the sink, and someone needs to start dinner for Holly and get some crackers or something for Jan. Those are the big things right now…”

Damian nods, flicking off the lights on his way out the door. “Both of you, get some rest. I’ll bring you some food in a few hours, lovebirds!”

Behind him, he hears Cady sigh, listens to the rustle of the blankets as she shifts to find a more comfortable position in the bed. It hurts, accepting that he’s not always going to be enough anymore, but at the same time, it’s oddly freeing. He’s done something good. He’s given his two favorite people on the planet time together to relax and care for each other as a couple, and he feels unusually light and happy as he gathers several days of dirty laundry from the hamper.

He peeks into their room on his way to the kitchen, taking a quick glimpse inside. They’re both asleep, Janis curled on Cady’s chest like a sleeping cat. Cady still holds her, snoring lightly as she cradles Janis against herself, her head resting against her girlfriend’s. 

Damian allows himself a moment to smile at the couple before continuing on his way, heading towards the kitchen. Janis’s room isn’t a place for him right now. And he’s more okay with that than he ever thought he’d be.


	10. The Girl in the Yellow

Veronica is five years old and Kurt Kelly has just shoved her down on the playground. Her knee is bleeding and she's crying and her only friend, Martha, who'd usually comfort her, is at home with the measles. So she cries alone behind the school, watching the blood well up on her knee. It's really not a lot, but to Veronica, she might as well be bleeding out here and now.

"Hi," a soft voice says awkwardly. Veronica looks up, still teary, to see a small blonde girl dressed all in yellow. "I saw him push you."

Veronica doesn't know what to say, so she just nods and watches the girl. Slowly, the girl in the yellow kneels before her. She lifts her left hand, and suddenly Veronica sees the Band-Aid in her palm.

The girl opens the Band-Aid and presses it over the wound, smiling hesitantly at Veronica. As soon as it's on, she waves and rushes away, her cheeks bright pink.

Veronica sits back, her tears drying into confusion. This is her first day of school...she doesn't even know this girl. Why did she help?

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Veronica is ten when she falls down the stairs at school. She just slipped, skidding and sliding, banging up her legs and hitting the walls, and now she lies at the base of the stairs, unsure of whether or not she can get up. Her classmates laughed when she fell and ignored her as they went to class, leaving her laying limp and dizzy at the bottom of the treacherous staircase.

"She's this way, it's not far, I promise!" she hears suddenly, and she stiffens, hoping it's someone come to help.

A teacher walks quickly into the room, gasping when she sees Veronica. "Thank you for telling me, Heather," she says quickly, rushing over to help Veronica stand. "I'll take her straight to the nurse's office."

As Veronica is lead away, she sees the girl in the yellow - her name is Heather McNamara, but she'll always be the girl in the yellow to Veronica - wave silently before rushing back to class.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Veronica is twelve when she drops her extended hardback dictionary on her foot. The dictionary causes a loud string of swearing, and Veronica is bending to retrieve it, muttering "...son of a bitch..." when she crashes into a soft, small body, also bending to lift the book.

"Oh, no, not you," Veronica apologizes quickly, upon seeing the hurt expression on the girl in the yellow's face. Of course it's Heather, Heather always seems to be her savior.

"Good," she sighs, smiling. "That looked like it hurt."

"It did," Veronica mutters. "I told my mom I'd rather have the paperback."

Heather giggles adorably at that, smiling at Veronica. "I'd better go to class. Watch out for falling dictionaries."

"I'll definitely do that!" Veronica responds, waving as they go their separate ways.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Veronica is seventeen when she is formally introduced to Heather McNamara, by none other than Heather Chandler herself. 

The girl in the yellow seems almost unable to meet her eyes, staring at the floor as she greets her, blushing pink as she acts like they've never interacted before. It stings, but it's sensible, and Veronica follows suit.

Later, Duke and Chandler leave, presumably to go shopping, but Heather doesn't go. "I told them my parents cut off my allowance," she murmurs to Veronica, still blushing.

"Why didn't you go?" Veronica asks, confused. "They told me they want me to get my color sorted out before I'm seen in public with you all the time, but why not you?"

Heather, looking on the verge of an anxiety attack, glances nervously at Veronica's eyes. "I'd rather...I'd rather talk to you."

"How very," Veronica responds, hoping she's using the phrase correctly. Heather doesn't correct her, but that may be because Heather looks like she's about to pass out. "What's up?"

Heather glances quickly in every direction, blushing furiously, and then rushes, up, standing on her very tiptoes, and kisses Veronica's cheek quickly. It's barely a peck, but it's the first time Veronica's been kissed by someone she's not related to, and a sudden warmth spreads through her body, making her toes tingle and her heart leap.

Looking quite terrified by her own boldness, Heather lets out a frightened squeak and races away, running quite quickly for someone in heels. Veronica sighs, watching her go. 

The girl in the yellow is always running.


	11. Your Eyes

Cady is filing Janis’s nails when the heels click behind them. Janis’s back tenses automatically at the familiar clicking and she tugs her hand out of Cady’s, ignoring the uneven edges of her nails. “What do you want, Regina?” Janis mutters, and she just sounds tired as she braces herself for whatever the blonde girl is about to hurl at her.

But Regina’s voice lacks its usual venom as she replies, her feet fixed on her four-inch lavender heels. “I just want to talk…?”

“Shove it up your ass and just get it over with,” Janis answers, her own shoulders dropping limply. “Call me a space dyke, throw stuff at me, step on my feet, pour your milk carton on my head, whatever. I don’t care anymore.”

Regina shifts awkwardly behind her, clearly biting her tongue. “...okay. That’s fair. But I really do want to talk to you.”

“It’s a free country,” Janis replies sardonically, slumping back against the lockers. “Go ahead, your Highness. Your slave is listening.”

“I meant alone?” Regina half-snaps, obviously struggling to keep her cool. “Without your...girlfriend.”

“Anything you want to say to me, you can say to Caddie,” Janis shoots back, throwing Cady a desperate look. “I want a witness.”

Cady shifts in her flats, awkwardly tugging the jacket she stole from Janis closed over her chest. “Actually...I really don’t belong here…”

“You think?” Regina mutters, immediately flushing as Janis starts to round on her.

“Jay.” Cady takes her girlfriend’s hand, rubbing light circles over her thumbs with her knuckles. The familiar motions have a calming effect on Janis, the stiffness leaving her tense muscles. Cady kisses her hand lightly, giving her a soft smile. “I feel a sudden need to refill my water bottle at the fountain down the hall. I’m in earshot, okay? Call me back if you need me.”

Janis nods slightly, burying her head in Cady’s shoulder for a moment. Cady touches her back, nodding encouragingly as she backs away. Regina sighs heavily behind them, and Cady gets the feeling she’s resisting the urge to make some homophobic comment at the affection between them. She ignores it, kissing Janis’s forehead lightly before scooping up her water bottle and slipping away from the scene.

Surprisingly, as Cady bends over the water fountain, angling the stream of cool water into the neck of her pink plastic bottle, she doesn’t hear any screaming or slapping sounds. Sighing thankfully, she resists the urge to look back over her shoulder. It’s more than likely that Janis will leap on Regina during a one-on-one conversation, and Cady’s not at all confident in her abilities to pry them apart.

 

Minutes tick by as Cady busies herself with filling her water bottle, getting a drink herself, combing through her hair with her fingers, reapplying her lip gloss, meticulously picking lint off her pink skirt, and filing her nails. She expected nothing more than a cursory conversation. But apparently whatever Regina wanted to talk about is a bit more involved than a few quick words about a school project.

She’s interrupted from a detailed daydream about a safari in Africa to observe the mating patterns of wild giraffes by Sonja Acquino’s screech of “Holy fucking shit!” Cady whirls around instantly, expecting to see Janis attempting to claw Regina George’s eyes out.

What she’s greeted with instead is quite possibly worse.

Both Janis and Regina are crying, and not slightly. Regina is sobbing so hard she’s bent over slightly, tears pouring down her cheeks. Janis’s chest is heaving with sobs as she covers her face with her hands, dark trails of mascara covering her hands and face as she struggles for air, staggering against the lockers for support.

Cady immediately sprints down the hallway, recognizing the tell-tale signs of a panic attack. She ignores Regina completely, pushing her out of the way to wrap her arms around Janis from behind, resting her chin on Janis’s shoulder and rubbing her arms gently. “Jay, darling…”

 

Janis sobs heavily, hanging on her arms for support as rough sobs tear through her. The combined racket from Regina and Janis draws more attention by the moment, bringing a crowd of their peers running over to see the unbelievable spectacle of Regina George crying. Cady ultimately hangs her out to dry, leaving her behind as she escorts her hysterical girlfriend away from the crowd. “Come on, Jay, we’re just gonna go to my car, okay?”

Too distraught to react, Janis stumbles along with her, soaking Cady’s sleeves with tears. Cady picks up the pace, dragging her hysterical girlfriend along with her. The only way Janis is going to calm down is if Cady gets her to safety and peace, so even though Cady feels evil for forcing Janis to walk in the middle of a panic attack, she doesn’t stop. 

Finally, Cady opens the back door of her green Volkswagen beetle, a car she insisted on when her parents offered to help her pay for one, and eases Janis into the backseat. She climbs in herself, closing the door and pulling Janis’s head into her lap, gently combing her fingers through her hair as Janis sobs. “Shh...shh, baby...you’re gonna be okay, darling, just breathe for me...you’re all right, angel, you’re okay…”

Cady’s helped Janis through panic attacks before, and at this point she knows exactly what to do. Quiet space, gentle contact, soft reassurance, patience. Janis will come down in a few minutes, as long as she’s comforted and protected from any possible threats. Cady leans down, pressing a light kiss to her forehead, humming a soft song to soothe her.

Janis finally relaxes slightly, still crying freely but less violently, her heavy sobs dying to faint gasps. Cady murmurs gentle praise, wiping away her tears delicately. “Good...you’re doing good, angel, it’s almost over, you’re doing so well…”

Finally, Janis sits up just enough to slump into Cady, shuddering slightly as her tears dry. “C-Caddie…”

“I’m right here, darling,” Cady promises, wrapping an arm around her protectively. “How are you feeling…?”

 

“Like I’ve been run over by a cement mixer,” Janis mumbles weakly, burying her head in Cady’s mathletes jacket. “Thanks, Caddie…”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Cady scolds lightly, gently flicking her arm. “Can you tell me what happened in there?”

Janis sighs, hugging Cady tighter. “I - it was...complicated.”

“She didn’t hurt you, did she?” Cady questions, returning Janis’s firm grip.

“No…” Janis says quietly, her eyes downcast. “At least, I don’t think she meant to...but she did. Again.”

“What did she say?” Cady asks curiously, pressing a light kiss to the top of Janis’s head. 

“She-” Janis laughs hoarsely, voice shaking slightly with disbelief. “She apologized to me.”

“No, really.”

“I’m serious. I didn’t believe her either. But she apologized to me. And I demanded to know for what, because there’s no way in hell I’m accepting her apology for anything, but I really wanted to hear her own it. And she did.” Janis’s voice still resounds with incredulity at Regina’s sudden change of heart. “It was...bizarre.”

“Did she sound like she meant it?” Cady asks inquisitively. Regina George and the idea of remorse simply don’t compute. Regina doesn’t apologize for “being a boss,” and Cady has a terrifying feeling that Regina files outing and torturing her best friend for years under “being a boss.”

“Kinda…?” Janis hazards, clearly unsure. “Like...she sounded kinda sorry, and she started crying at the end, but...I don’t think she’s really grasped what she did to me. I don’t think she’s even started to get it.”

“Do you want her to?” Cady questions, adjusting her grip on her girlfriend. 

“I don’t think she could without going through it, and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone,” Janis decides after a brief pause, clearly lost in her own head. “I don’t...forgive her, or anything, but...it was good of her, to apologize, and she said she understood if I told her to shove it up her ass, but she just wanted to say it, and let me know she wanted to be better, and...I still don’t accept it, but...I didn’t tell her to shove it up her ass.”

“Do you know why you panicked…?” Cady asks hesitantly, kissing her forehead lightly. “What triggered that…”?”

“Bad memories,” Janis says heavily, leaning her head back against Cady’s chest. The steady, thrumming rhythm of her heartbeat soothes her. “Really bad memories. She got...detailed, and...I don’t talk about that shit for a reason. It just brings it all back.”

Cady hums sympathetically, resting her chin on Janis’s head lightly. “I’m sorry, baby. You want to just stay in here for a while? Or skip the whole day?”

“I just wanna go home and watch movies…” Janis murmurs, laying her head sleepily against Cady. “Can’t go back to school today…”

 

“I’ll take us home.”


	12. Give Me All Your Poison

Heather pulled the sheets back and slipped into bed, quickly followed by Veronica. The two girls often slept in the same bed, for warmth and for comfort after the events of the first half of senior year. Second semester was shaping up to be somewhat less chaotic, but neither wanted to sleep alone.  
So it was in Heather's yellow bed that they curled up together and tried to get some sleep. At first, they'd been awkward and uncomfortable, Veronica almost falling out of the left side of the bed while Heather slept with her hand hanging over the right. But they'd slowly grown more comfortable, and now Veronica tucked her head under Heather's chin and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer.  
They lay in comfortable, companionable silence, not needing words to communicate the love between them. Heather absent-mindedly stroked Veronica's deep brown hair, toying and combing through the chocolate locks. Veronica traced patterns along Heather's hips and stomach with her long, onyx-painted nails, not really drawing anything in particular, just gracefully brushing her long, slender fingers over her girlfriend's pale skin. It was a gesture that was somehow possessive and sweet at the same time.  
Last semester, possessive would have sent Heather screaming in the other direction. Kurt Kelly's possessive meant she wasn't allowed to speak to other guys, wasn't allowed to wear her miniskirts except for when she was with him, wasn't allowed to spend time with her friends if Kurt told her to come over. But Veronica's possessive is sweeter, kinder, all-around better. Veronica's possessive is narrowed eyes and a kick to the crotch of any guys who touch Heather anywhere she doesn't want them to. Veronica's possessive is calling Heather every night, to make sure she's okay and happy and safe. Veronica's possessive is telling Heather Duke to suck it when she tried to become the new Chandler. Kurt's possessive was rooted in jealousy; Veronica's is rooted in the deep fear running through her veins that Heather will try again to take the pills and this time she won't make it to the bathroom in time to stop her.  
Heather tilted her neck and brushed her lips against Veronica's, softly, so as not to wake her. Veronica's hand was curled against Heather's shoulder, her full, red lips parted slightly. "Good night, sleeping beauty," Heather murmured, closing her own eyes and relaxing into Veronica.  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Veronica bolted up with a shriek, throwing Heather's arms off her. The sound woke Heather from her sleep. Frantic, the blonde girl leaned over and flicked on the lamp.  
Veronica's chest was heaving, her huge brown eyes wild. She was panting, sweat shining on her forehead. Heather took her hand in both of her own.  
"Love, it's just me," she murmured softly, kissing Veronica's hand. "It's just me here. You're in my room. Just us. You're okay."  
Veronica nodded frantically, her brunette hair bouncing wildly around her face. "Just...a stupid...dream," she gasped.  
Heather instantly pushed herself up onto her knees and pulled Veronica into her arms, holding her tight as her dark-haired girlfriend buried her head in her shoulder.  
"You want to talk about it?" Heather asked softly, running her hands through Veronica's hair.  
"Just...J.D., Heather, that whole fucking mess," Veronica mumbled, locking her arms around Heather's neck and straddling her lap. "Stupid drain cleaner..."  
Heather laughed a little and tightened her grip, pressing a soft kiss to Veronica's head.  
"Why are you with me?" Veronica asked, leaning back and looking Heather in the eye. "I killed your best friend, your boyfriend, your boyfriend's best friend, and nearly got the whole school blown up. You should hate me. You shouldn't be wanting to hold me."  
"Ronnie..." Heather began.  
"I don't deserve you, Mac. I deserve to die. I should have been blown up with J.D. I'm the one problem left with Westerberg. I die, the school is safe. But I haven't paid yet, for what I did to three people. I don't deserve you, Mac." Tears began to track down Veronica's face, her eyes dull and glassy.  
"Ronnie, no," Heather pleaded, leaning in and kissing her forehead. "You were ready to die for the rest of the school. You were ready to die for us. You shot your boyfriend, your asshole abusive boyfriend, you fought him off to save us - to save me." Heather cupped Veronica's face in her hands and kissed her firmly, brushing one hand against her high, arched cheekbone, the other braced on Veronica's hips.  
"I don't care what you think you deserve," Heather murmured into the kiss. "I know that you deserve everything you have and so much more. I love you, Veronica Sawyer, and if you want to push me away you're gonna have to do a hell of a lot more than kill my boyfriend because I'm not going anywhere."  
Veronica let out a muffled, strangled sob and sank into Heather's arms, her shoulders heaving with massive sobs. "Oh, love," Heather breathed, rubbing Veronica's back and resting her chin on her head. "Oh, Ronnie...Ronnie..."  
"Mac," Veronica wheezed out. "Mac, I can't breathe..."  
"Deep breath," Heather advised. "In, then out. You're okay. You're okay, Ronnie."  
Heather rolled back slowly, pulling Veronica with her and pulling her close, her girlfriend's head tucked under her chin, their legs entangled and Heather's arms wrapped around her. Veronica curled her arms against her shoulders, burying her head in Heather's nightgown.  
Veronica cried in Heather's arms for another hour, every pent-up emotion that she'd been holding in since J.D. had blown...her off finally running out. Finally, she cried herself to sleep, still curled up in Heather's arms.  
Heather slowly pulled the covers over Veronica and flicked the light switch back off, kissing the back of Veronica's neck softly and pressing herself tighter to her girlfriend, ignoring the damp patch on her yellow nightgown.


	13. Ignite

The fire crackles in front of them, the light flickering off their faces as they sit in contented silence. Heather’s head is propped sleepily on Veronica’s shoulder, their hands entwined as they watch the flames eat up their supply of sticks. The marshmallows are long gone, the only chocolate remaining being the small smudge on Heather’s cheek. Veronica reaches over, gently dabbing it away with her thumb.

“Mm...thanks,” Heather mumbles, her head lolling sleepily. “‘S really nice out here…”

“It is,” Veronica agrees, looking up at the few stars above them that shine through the gloomy haze of light pollution. “It’s really nice. We should do this more often...won’t need to build the fire pit more than once.”

Heather chuckles at that, remembering the effort of collecting enough stones to create a ring around the bare patch Veronica created with weed killer and a lawnmower to root out the survivors. “I could definitely do without building the firepit again.”

“It’s a one-time job, buttercup,” Veronica assures her, resting her head against Heather’s. “As long as my dad doesn’t take it apart or anything, and I told him I’d sell his word puzzles if he did. So I think it’s safe.”

Heather laughs a little, nestling further into Veronica. “You can plan a date, Sawyer, I’ll give you that. I bet I’ll beat you tomorrow, though…”

“What are we doing tomorrow?” Veronica whines, nudging her girlfriend teasingly. “You’ve kept your secret for weeks, come on, spill!”

“What’s the fun in that?” Heather argues, elbowing her back. “You’ll find out tomorrow, won’t you?”

“Come on, Heather, at least tell me what I need to wear!” Veronica insists, shoving her playfully. “I don’t wanna show up looking like an idiot!”

“Just look reasonable, you’ll be fine.”

“But what’s reasonable?” Veronica whines, draping herself over Heather pleadingly. “Nice reasonable, or casual reasonable, or formal reasonable, or cleaning a goat pen reasonable-”

“Cleaning a goat pen?!” Heather interrupts. “When was that on the table, sweetheart?”

“I’m kidding, idiot,” Veronica shoots back, letting go of Heather reluctantly. “What do I need to wear…?”

“Just your normal clothes!” Heather insists. “Not like you’re gonna clean a goat pen! Although if you’d like, I’m sure I could find you a goat pen to clean…”

“Mm, I’ll pass,” Veronica declines, burrowing back into Heather. “Come on, you know you wanna tell me…”

“I know that I do not,” Heather replies primly, miming locking her lips and throwing away the key over her shoulder. “Sorry, sweetheart. You’ll just have to deal for one more night.”

“You’re evil,” Veronica mopes, pulling a face at Heather. “More evil than your mom’s Chihuahua, and believe me when I say this, your mom’s Chihuahua is Satan coming to punish us all for our sins by gnawing away our feet from the ankles. I don’t trust that feral animal.”

“Oh, God,” Heather shudders, imagining her mom’s snarling Chihuahua. “Where did she even get that beast?”

“Satan’s Pet Shop,” Veronica deadpans. “For all your demonic needs. Fifty percent off on hellhound half-breeds, limited time only. Take home your own personal Beelzebub today.”

“You’re such a dork,” Heather snorts, flicking her arm. “And for the record, Satan would run from that thing. It’s not Satanic. It makes Satan cry for his mommy.”

“I’m not exorcising you when Satan gets vengeance for all the shit you’re talking,” Veronica warns, poking at the glowing coals with a stick to revive the fading life from the embers. “He’s gonna get you, and you’ll be all on your own then.”

“God, thanks, Ronnie,” Heather sighs, rolling her eyes exaggeratedly. “Love you too.”

 

“Glad to hear it,” Veronica responds, giving up on her attempts to breathe life back into their fire. “I think we’re about out of flames, buttercup. You ready to go in?”

“I guess,” Heather sighs reluctantly, lifting her head off of Veronica’s shoulder. “Water bucket’s behind me…”

“We’ll do it again next week, okay?” Veronica promises, kissing her forehead lightly. “I’ll get some more wood this week. Hop up, let me get the water.”

Heather whines in protest, but stands up reluctantly, pouting as Veronica soaks the fading coals until they fizzle out, the heat dissipating with a hiss. “What do you look so happy about?” Veronica remarks sarcastically, propping the bucket up to dry.

“You should carry me to bed…” Heather pleads, blinking up at Veronica sadly with her big blue eyes. “Because I’m so tired…”  
Veronica stares at her for a moment, trying not to give in to her. But it’s impossible, with that sad face and those big blue eyes and pitiful pout…

“Fine!” Veronica sighs exasperatedly, scooping Heather up unceremoniously. “You’d better hang on tight, beggar. Why are you so fucking cute?”

“You’re a sucker,” Heather mumbles sleepily, curling up in Veronica’s arms, lulled into sleep by her even, swaying gait. 

“Sure am,” Veronica mumbles, making sure Heather can’t hear her as she carries her slowly into the house.


	14. Stung With Love

Cady giggles, leaning her head on Janis’s shoulder. “You really can plan a date, you know that?”

“Well, obviously. It’s because I’m the best girlfriend ever,” Janis replies, kissing her fluffy auburn curls. “Kidding. I was actually kinda worried about this one, to be honest. Didn’t know if you’d want something fancier…”

Cady nudges her lightly, bumping Janis with her shoulder. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m from Kenya, remember? I’m used to dirt floor and mud bricks.”

“Are you from Kenya, babe? Really? I had no idea.” Janis cackles as Cady pushes her again, this time nearly sending her sprawling back over the old purple blanket they set down on the hillside. “Seriously, though, I’m glad you’re happy. I guess a way to a girl’s heart really is through her stomach.”

“At least for me it is.” Cady grins at her, showing off her pearly white teeth. “Do we have any more strawberries…?”

“Yeah, mine,” Janis retorts, immediately jerking the basket of chocolate-dipped strawberries back into her arms, cradling the wooden case protectively like a small child. “You already ate yours, Choco-Queen. These ones are mine!”

“Come on, Jan, you weren’t even looking at them until I asked!” Cady whines, sticking her lower lip out petulantly as she gropes for the basket. “You can share!”

“Sharing is caring, and I don’t care!” Janis shrieks defensively, hunching protectively over her strawberries. “These are mine!”

“Just a couple?” Cady pleads, blinking sadly up at Janis. “I’ll give you a kiss for every strawberry you give me…”

Janis immediately freezes. “How good?”

Cady tilts her head, quirking one eyebrow in confusion. “What do you mean, ‘how good?’”

“How much tongue?” Janis replies bluntly, drawing the strawberries closer. “And tits. That too.”

 

“You mean you want one individual makeout session for every measly little strawberry?” Cady asks incredulously. “What kind of berry whore do you think I am?”

“A girl can dream,” Janis sighs, surrendering the strawberries. “Take what you please, Chocolate Ho, and then I get to make out with you as payment. Deal?”

“Deal!” Cady exclaims happily, diving into the strawberries. “You know, maybe it’s good I have them. Chocolate is an aphrodisiac, you know. The more chocolate you feed me, the better you get kissed after.”

“Tits,” Janis reiterates poutily, glaring at the quickly diminishing heap of chocolate-covered strawberries. “I want tits.”

“You do know we’re outside, right?” Cady points out, surfacing for air with chocolate smeared all over her face like a poorly-kept mustache. “I’m not stripping for you on a public hill.”

“We’re the only ones here,” Janis whines, her eyes fixed directly on Cady’s chest. “Just a little half-assed strip?”

“I’m staying decent as long as we’re in public!” Cady retorts, her voice muffled by the three strawberries stuffed into her mouth, puffing out her cheeks like a chipmunk storing acorns for the winter. “Wipe that self-pitying look off your face, you act like you’ve never seen my - ow!”

The rest of Cady’s sentence is drowned in a high-pitched yelp as she claps a hand over her arm, her blue eyes round with shock. “Something stung me!”

“Like a bee?” Janis gasps, already looking around for the culprit. “Where’d the little bastard go? I’m gonna beat his black-and-yellow-striped ass into next year-”

“It’s already gonna die anyway, Jan,” Cady mutters, studying her afflicted arm. “Can I borrow your credit card? The stinger’s stuck, I need something hard and flat to get it out…”

“I’m gonna do better than that!” Janis proclaims, still scanning the area for the bee. “I’m gonna avenge you! I’ll beat the shit out of it before it dies!”

“I think I got it, actually,” Cady observes, spotting the tiny striped body on the blanket. “Aww...and bees are endangered, too…”

“They deserve it! They sting my girlfriend!” Janis rages, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “I’ll defend you from the little fuckers!”

“Babe? You’re very brave and noble. My knight in shining armor. Think you could help me pull the stinger out?”

“Fine,” Janis sulks, kneeling beside Cady to gently scrape out the stinger with her credit card. “Are you all right, love? Not allergic or anything?”

“I’m not,” Cady replies, her own face breaking into a broad smile. “It just stings a little.”

“Oh my God,” Janis moans, trying to mask her own persistent smile. “That was awful.”

“I suppose you could say it was a bumbling attempt at humor,” Cady continues, giggling adorably at the exaggerated horror on Janis’s face. “I could wax on, you know…”

“Shut up,” Janis orders, finally surrendering and cracking a smile. “You’re giving me hives, honey…”

“That was so much worse than anything I said,” Cady claims, shifting closer to Janis. “Awful. Horrifying. Nightmarish. Revolting. Disgusting.”

“Maybe you should shut me up,” Janis suggests, bracing her hands on Cady’s hips. “Can you think of a way to manage that?”

“Maybe a few,” Cady agrees, moving into Janis’s lap to straddle her waist. “I don’t know, though. Do you deserve it? Because your puns certainly don’t…”

“I sacrificed my entire basket of chocolate-covered strawberries in exchange for these kisses. Pay me or I’ll give the chocolate I got you for your birthday to Damian. You know you’ll never get it back from him, he’ll fight you to the death for it.”

“You’re worse than the bees,” Cady mumbles, pressing her lips to Janis’s. “And your breath smells.”

“So does yours, garbage mouth,” Janis shoots back, breaking away for just a moment before diving back into the kiss.


	15. Hurts Like Yesterday

“Hey, Jan!” Cady calls brightly, waving to her girlfriend in the halls as she stands by her locker. Janis usually meets her here every day to pepper her face with kisses and show Cady her latest drawings, but she’s late today.

Cady starts to reach out, but Janis brushes roughly past her, not even glancing in her direction as she strides down the hall. Her shoulders are tense even for her, her back unusually erect, and Cady recognized the posture Janis assumes when she’s breaking apart and desperately trying to balance the pieces together.

“What’s with her?” Damian asks, as confused as Cady is by Janis’s sudden coldness. “You piss her off or something yesterday?”

 

“Don’t think so...we went for pizza...she was acting a little weird, but she said she forgot her lactose intolerance pills, it was just her stomach bothering her…”

“But you don’t think that’s it,” Damian finishes for her, tucking a loose strand of hair back into her braid.

“Yeah,” Cady sighs, staring off in the direction of Janis’s retreating back. “When she’s sick, I can’t get her out of my lap, much less that far away. I’d guess at anxiety, but she’s gotten a lot better about communication…”

“Cads, I’m gonna tell you something about our dear, sweet Jan. I love her more than anything else on this planet, but she’s an idiot. Not a low-grade idiot, either. An idiot of the highest degree.”

“Yeah, obviously,” Cady agrees, flicking a speck of lint off Damian’s shirt. “We’re talking about the girl who once asked me if Paris was the capital of London, remember? But what does that have to do with her apparently hating us?”

“You’re right, she’s gotten a lot better about opening up,” Damian explains, pulling his math book from his locker. “But only about a couple of things. I can think of a short list of shit she won’t talk about, and I’ll bet you my chunk of the tiara whatever’s getting to her is on there.”

“What’s the list?” Cady asks curiously as she removes her English book from the neatly ordered stacks.

“Regina. Her third grade talent show performance. And...her dad.”

Cady winces at the mention of Janis’s father, sharing a look with Damian at even the idea of the man who’s caused her so much pain. “I’ve actually gotten her to talk to me about Regina...not a lot, but a little, and I think she’s mostly past it. I’m pretty sure something from third grade isn’t it either, which means…”  
Cady’s heart sinks into a pit in her chest. From the look on Damian’s face, he feels it too. “You think…?” Cady asks hollowly, her shoulders automatically tightening at the thought.

Damian nods heavily, shoving his math book into his blue backpack with more force than necessary. “I swear to God, if he’s found her phone number again, I’ll drive all the way to Seattle on the goddamn Jazzy to kick his ass.”

“She said she didn’t talk to him,” Cady mumbles numbly, falling against her locker to support her quaking legs. “She said he cut them off completely…”

“At first,” Damian sighs, his face tightening with anger at the memories. “Then...getting abandoned like that fucks you up, Cady, especially as young as she was. When she was thirteen, she went through this insane phase...she wanted to reconnect with her dad. There...there were better ways she could have done it.”

“What did she do?’ Cady almost-whispers, staring at Damian in horror. Impulsive Janis is dangerous on a good day. The idea of her girlfriend, heartbroken and hurting and acting thoughtlessly, makes her heart sink even further at all the courses she could have taken.

“She wrote him a letter,” Damian says tightly, clearly struggling to control himself, even now. “By hand. She told him all about Regina, and about the space dyke shit that was going on at the time, and about how she was afraid of how she might actually be a lesbian, and begged him to come home and help her. He hadn’t bothered to let them know he’d already been remarried for a year by then.”

Cady stares at Damian in silent horror, praying that the story stops right there and doesn’t get any worse than it already has, but he keeps talking, staring off into the distance. His eyes are very far away.

“He took her letter, her big, heartfelt, pleading letter, and threw it in the trash. Then he came home. Janis showed up at my house sobbing, just absolutely sobbing. She was distraught...turns out her dad slapped her so hard she fell over when she ran up to hug him and went inside to scream at her mom about how she was raising a dyke and needed to put Jan into conversion therapy. She was too scared to go home for three days. I’ve never felt her shake like that…” 

Damian’s voice quivers with anger as he continues. “You know Ms. Sarkisian, she thinks you and Janis are the power couple of the century. She told him where he could shove it, and he stormed back to Seattle. We thought it was over...and then the phone calls started. Some were from him, just screaming at her...most were from conversion therapy trials. He gave them her number, told them she could be convinced...half the scars on her legs are from those calls. He made her hate herself.”  
Damian squeezes Cady’s hand tightly, his knuckles showing white through the skin. “She was too scared to say anything and she swore me to secrecy. Then she got one in front of her mom, and that was the end of that. Ms. Sarkisian changed her number and threatened to file a restraining order...and Janis hasn’t said anything about him since.”

“God,” Cady murmurs, feeling a strong urge to find her girlfriend and hug her. “She hasn’t said…”

“She wouldn’t have,” Damian replies grimly. “The only reason I know is because I was there. She doesn’t talk to me either. But she still has nightmares.”

“What do I do?” Cady asks quietly, leaning her head on his shoulder. “How do I...how do I even begin…?”

“I can’t tell you,” Damian sighs, resting his head on hers. “I wish I could. But you’re her Caddie, the love of her life, her everything, her sunshine, the most adorable person she knows...all her words. You can always figure something out, because she loves you, and you make her want to be okay. And that’s pretty incredible, Cads.”

He kisses her head lightly, ruffling her auburn hair affectionately. “I don’t suppose you’re suddenly not feeling well, Cads? Bad enough for me to, say, tell Ms. Norbury you’re going home?”

Cady giggles a little, giving him a friendly shove. “Yeah, I feel awful, Damian. I doubt you’ll see me in class for the rest of the day.”

“Pity,” he jokes, shoving her back. “Off you go, you poor thing.”

Cady’s still giggling a little as she strides away, ignoring the ringing of the bell. No matter what, Damian always knows what to say to coax a laugh out of her. She’s so lucky to have him as her best friend.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It takes her longer than usual to find Janis. She’s not in any of her usual spots, which worries Cady even more. Janis almost always hides in the art room when she’s at school, but she’s not anywhere in the sunlit room, unnerving Cady even more.

Finally, she pokes her head inquisitively into the auditorium, her eyes flicking around the spacious room searchingly. Normally, the stage would be a better bet for finding Damian, but she’ll try anything at this point.

She’s rewarded for her efforts with the echoes of soft, hiccupy sniffles reverberating around the halls of the auditorium. Thank God for great acoustics.

“Jan…?” Cady calls hesitantly, wandering down the main aisle as she searches for her girlfriend. “Jan, is that you?”

Her voice only makes the sniffles grow louder, which Cady takes as a yes. After a few minutes of searching, she finally finds Janis.

Her girlfriend is curled in the fetal position in the soft hem of the velvet stage curtains, sniffling quietly into the fabric. Her eyes are red and swollen, still glazed over with tears. The deep red velvet of the curtains covers most of her body, only her head peeking out for air. It’s one of the saddest things Cady’s ever seen, immediately stifling any laughter that might have arisen at the sight of Janis wrapped in the curtains like a kitten.

“Jay, darling…” Cady sighs, settling down onto the stage by her head. “What’s the matter, my love?”

“Go away!” Janis whimpers, a harsh, choked sob tearing from her throat as the tears pour quickly down her cheeks. “Just don’t, just don’t!”

“I won’t touch if you don’t want me to,” Cady promises, shifting away from her to give Janis her space. “But I’m worried about you, love...can you please tell me what’s going on so I can help?”

“You can’t help, no one can help, just leave me alone, just leave!” Janis wails, plunging her face back into the scarlet curtains. “No one can help, no one can fix this, just go away!”

“Baby…” Cady sighs, watching her girlfriend sob pitifully into the curtains. “There’s gotta be something I can do...anything at all…?”

Janis shakes her head frantically, her chest heaving with sobs, clearly getting more agitated by the minute. “You can’t - there’s nothing, nothing helps, nothing helps fix it-”

“How about a hug?” Cady suggests softly, desperately wanting to reach out and wipe her tears away, but controlling herself. “I know it won’t fix anything, but it might make you feel a little better…”

Janis stares at her for a moment, tears pouring from her glassy eyes, and then Cady opens her arms and that’s what does it as Janis rockets into them, nearly knocking them both over as she flings herself into Cady’s embrace. Cady finds her balance, immediately pulling her distraught girlfriend to lay against her, chest to chest, Janis’s legs wrapped around her waist and head buried into her soft flannel shirt. Janis sobs brokenly into her shirt, clinging to Cady like a small child. Her heart breaking for Janis, Cady rocks her girlfriend soothingly, holding her as securely as she can, resting her chin on her head as she sings a Kenyan lullaby she pulls from the darkest corners of her memory, knowing how soothing Janis finds her soft, sweet voice.

It takes a long time for Janis to cry herself out, her body pressed limply against Cady. Finally, her racking sobs die down to pitiful sniffles and Cady slowly stops singing, ending the final note of the lullaby with a soft kiss pressed to Janis’s head. “You don’t have to tell me anything, Jay,” Cady says softly, careful not to sound coercive or demanding. “But if you want to tell me what’s wrong, I’m listening.”

Janis lets out a shaky breath, wavering slightly. “Caddie, I-”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Cady reaffirms, dropping another kiss onto her head.

“No, no, I should,” Janis says thickly, still choked with tears. “But it...it’s hard for me, Caddie, to talk about things...especially these things...not to mention that you’ll probably hate me. You should...I even hate myself.”

“I could never hate you,” Cady promises, slowly combing her fingers through Janis’s soft brown hair. “I love you, my girl. And if you want to tell me what’s making you so sad, I’m listening without judging, baby, I promise.”

Janis sighs heavily, nestling her head back into Cady’s shirt. “Could you rub my back while I talk…? Helps me relax…”

Cady murmurs an agreement without hesitation, running her hand under Janis’s jacket and shirt to lightly rub her bare skin, the heat from her warming her pale hand. Janis sighs contentedly as she burrows into her arms like a small animal.

“It’s, um, it’s about my dad…” Janis begins awkwardly, discomfort coming from her in waves. “Or...kind of, I guess…”

“He’s not hurting you, is he?” Cady questions hesitantly, squeezing her lightly for a moment.

Janis shakes her head, although she doesn’t look sure. “It’s him...but it’s not him. It’s…” Janis closes her eyes, swallowing hard. The words slip out of her suddenly, almost like she doesn’t mean for them to. “Caddie, my mom has a boyfriend!”

“Oh,” Cady says softly, mentally reeling. She loves Janis’s mom, a sweet, older woman with her girlfriend’s expressive brown eyes and fiery demeanor. But imagining Ms. Sarkisian with a man...it just doesn’t compute. Not that she couldn’t get one, she’s an brilliant, attractive woman, but she’s always seemed so focused on her daughters...she’s never seemed like the type to date. “Do you...not like him, or something like that?”

Janis shakes her head rapidly, her eyes starting to water again as she clings to Cady. “He’s..he’s great, Caddie. My mom met him at...at a support meeting, for...for abuse victims.” Janis’s voice breaks heavily on the words and Cady hugs her tighter, Janis’s terrified screams from her nightmares echoing in her ears. “And he’s wonderful to her, Caddie. He takes her on these insane dates like cliff-diving and pottery and kayaking and everything else she’s never been able to do, and he takes Holly out for ice cream every weekend, and-” Janis sobs heavily, clearly growing more distraught. “He cleared his schedule for my art show this weekend, and he comes into the garage while I’m painting to watch because he says I’m brilliant and he’s an engineer so he helps me with my math homework all the time, and he’s just perfect.”

“Baby, I don’t think I understand,” Cady says softly, gently rocking her again. “He sounds...awesome, actually, but he seems to be making you really sad...can you try to explain?”

Janis wipes frantically at her eyes with her sleeve, her face red and puffy from sobbing. “I don’t want to share my mom and I don’t want her to get married again and I don’t want him in my house because I’m scared!”

“What are you scared of?” Cady prompts, stroking her hair lightly as she holds her, trying to calm Janis down as her chest heaves with sobs.

“My dad used to be like this, he used to bring my mom flowers and take her on great dates and tell her she was the best damn thing on the planet, and then he got her pregnant-” Janis gesticulates frantically at herself, full-on sobbing once more - “and then he married her, because he’s a crazy pro-lifer and my mom wanted to keep me anyway, and then he wasn’t such a nice guy anymore, and he started threatening to hit me when I cried, and my mom started taking it instead, and it was hell for eleven years until he finally left!”

“You’re scared it’s going to happen again,” Cady realizes, holding Janis as close to her chest as she can, resting her chin on her girlfriend’s head. “You’re scared he’s gonna be like your dad.”

Janis nods quickly, her chest heaving as she hyperventilates. “And my mom doesn’t have time for us time anymore, and she used to paint my nails once a month and talk to me and give me a whole hour of just her and I could cry and talk and scream and vent and just lay in her lap and not have to do anything else, and she forgot, Caddie, she forgot about it and went hiking with Jason instead, and I got to stay home and babysit Holly and Colin!”

“Oh, Jay…” Cady murmurs, rubbing her back soothingly. “Try to breathe...who’s Colin, darling?”

“His son!” Janis wails, her breaths not easing at all. “His son, his nine-year-old son, his wife left him and he has their son and he’s dating my mom and his son is in our house all the time and I can’t go anywhere without finding him repairing the goddamn sink or some other shit in my house!”  
Finally spent for words, Janis plunges her head into the crook of Cady’s neck, hot, sticky tears soaking her skin. Cady rocks her slowly, hugging Janis as tightly as she can, rubbing her back lightly. “Shh...shh, Jan, my girl, you’re all right, you’re okay…”

“‘M not,” Janis mumbles harshly, tears still streaming down her cheeks as she clings to Cady. 

“I promise, it’s gonna be okay,” Cady murmurs, running her fingers through Janis’s soft hair. “You’re gonna be okay, Jan. I’ve got you…”

Janis finally cries herself out and settles for laying limply in Cady’s lap. Cady is fairly sure she won’t be able to walk when Janis does finally get up, but she brushes it off, ignoring the tingling in her numb legs. Janis is more important.

“What do I do, Caddie?” Janis mumbles helplessly, sounding as if she’s choking on tears. “My mom’s so happy...what kind of fucking cold-hearted bitch doesn’t want her abused mom to be happy?”

“You’re not a bitch, darling,” Cady corrects softly, slowly carding her fingers through Janis’s hair. “You’re understandably hesitant and struggling to adjust to a big change. It is a big change, darling. It’s just been you and your mom and Holly for a while, and that’s gotta be a hard thing to let go of.”

“I want to like him,” Janis sighs, leaning back to study Cady’s face, still curled securely in her lap. “I really do. He’s really trying with me, he wants to be close with me, he wants me to like him...and I want that, too, but...it’s just so hard, it hurts so much…”

“You can’t force yourself to like him, darling,” Cady points out, cupping Janis’s chin in her hand. “Why don’t you introduce him to me and Damian? That way, you won’t be alone with just him and your mom, and he can see that you’re trying too...it might help.”

Janis sighs, letting her head rest in Cady’s palm and looking up at her pitifully. “I’m glad I’m dating a genius. That’s...that’s a really good idea, Caddie. And I - I need to know how he’s going to feel about the dyke thing, anyway…”

“You don’t have anything to be afraid of,” Cady promises, kissing her nose lightly. “Your mom would kick his ass with a broom and her left bunny slipper if he ever hurt you, Jan.”

Janis giggles weakly, her imagination conjuring up an image of her mom ferociously wielding a bunny slipper. “Thanks, Caddie. For...for everything. I know I can be a pain...don’t talk about anything...thanks for putting up with me.”

“I don’t ‘put up’ with anything,” Cady corrects gently. “You’re a private person, baby. And that’s okay. We’re working on the opening up together, remember? And you’re doing really well, my girl. Especially just now.”

Janis manages a smile. “I love it when you call me your girl.”

“I love calling you my girl,” Cady replies, kissing her forehead gently. “You know, Jan, I don’t feel well at all, do you? I think we might need to go home and just watch movies all day…”

“I feel terrible,” Janis agrees, her smile widening slightly. “I can’t possibly go to class.”

“You poor thing,” Cady laughs, helping her up and immediately staggering on her legs, which are both asleep. “Let’s go home before we feel any worse, shall we?”

“An arrangement I can work with.”


	16. Precious

Veronica Sawyer can’t cook.

It’s not a big issue; Veronica is more than happy to do any other housework besides food preparation, and Heather gratefully exchanged laundry duties for doing the cooking for the two of them. So she’s rather shocked and somewhat alarmed when she opens the door to be instantly greeted with the scent of chicken soup wafting towards her.

After slipping her lemon-colored coat off to hang on the coatrack, Heather makes her way in the direction of the kitchen immediately, not even kicking her shoes off in her curiosity. “Ronnie, sweetheart, are you cooking?”

Veronica glances up at her name, revealing her already naturally frizzy brown hair to have been aggravated by the steam of the pot, creating the look of a mutant cephalopod sprouting from her scalp. “Yeah,” she mumbles, a hint of red creeping into her cheeks as she stares down at her pot. “Was meant to be a surprise...you’re home early.”

“Yeah, they didn’t need me at work,” Heather explains, perching on the counter like a canary. “What’s the occasion, Ron? Not a birthday, not anniversary...pretty sure it’s not a funeral…”

Veronica laughs a little, adjusting the heat on the pot. “Not a funeral. Can’t I do nice things just because?”

“When you voluntarily cook, I’m gonna get suspicious,” Heather teases, taking a sniff of the aroma rising from the pot. “I gotta say, sweetheart, I’m impressed. Have you been taking lessons?”

 

“I read the recipe very carefully, and I double-checked every instruction, and this may or may not be my third attempt,” Veronica replies, poking inquisitively at a lump of chicken. “Believe it or not, it’s possible to burn liquids.”

“If I had to pick one person in the world to do it, babe, I’d pick you,” Heather jokes. “Kidding, sweetheart. It looks great.”

Veronica sighs in relief, beginning to ladle her concoction into bowls. “Thank God. Let’s both pray I cooked this chicken all the way through.”

“Looks fine,” Heather promises, poking at a piece in her bowl with her spoon. “No pink.”

“I’ll take it that’s good,” Veronica jokes, taking her bowl to the table. “Come on, college can wait for an hour or so. I want soup and girlfriend time.”

“Like you have to ask for girlfriend time,” Heather retorts, settling into her chair. “Mm...babe, this is ten out of ten. And you say you can’t cook.”  
“You’re being generous,” Veronica mumbles, flushing at the praise. “It’s as good as the canned stuff, that’s all I’m willing to give it.”

“Well, you’re wrong,” Heather insists, sipping at her soup slowly to stretch the time with her girlfriend. “Was this really a spur-of-the-moment kindness, or do you have some ulterior motive you’re not telling me about?”

“Well...um…” Veronica mumbles, immediately staring into her soup, her cheeks flushed brilliant red. “Um...so…”

“I knew it!” Heather laughs, taking a moment to bask in her victory. “I knew it! Okay, spill. What’s so important you’re making a foray into the kitchen, which you hate?”

“Okay, okay, easy!” Veronica orders, cheeks flaming. “It’s - it’s stupid - not a big deal or anything-”

“Spill!” Heather demands, nudging Veronica with her foot. “Tell me what it is!”

“Okay, okay!” Veronica yelps again, her face as red as the fire engines parked in the fire department across the street. “Okay, so...um...I’m not...not very good, at, you know, expressing my - my emotions, but I - I wanted to try to, to, you know, do that...so I made you soup, because I know you’re tired when you - you come home, and I thought you might - might want a break from, you know, cooking or...whatever, so I decided to - to try it, to see if I could, because you - you work so hard, and I think - I think you’re awesome, and I want to show you how - how great I - I think you are, and words and I, you know, we don’t get along very well, so I tried to - the soup…? Agh, okay, I sound like an idiot, a rambling stupid idiot, I should really stop talking now but I keep talking anyway, okay, okay, I’m stopping now, I’m sorry!”

Veronica buries her head in her hands, trembling slightly in her seat, soup forgotten. Heather sighs, gently touching her arm. “Ronnie? Sweetheart? Can you look up for me?”

Slowly, fearfully, Veronica lifts her face from her hands, revealing her cheeks to be tomato-red. “You don’t need to be sorry,” Heather murmurs, rubbing her arm gently. “You don’t need to be sorry. Why would you be sorry? You made me soup and you saved me from having to cook and you just told me one of the sweetest things I’ve ever heard. Stop being sorry, sweetheart. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“You mean that…?” Veronica mumbles, still very pink as she stares at Heather in confusion. “No being sorry?”

“No being sorry,” Heather reaffirms, touching her cheek lightly. “Absolutely no being sorry.”


	17. Never Let You Fall

Janis swears under her breath as she checks her bag, realizing that, not for the first time, she’s forgotten her lunch at home. Cady usually brings it in for her when she forgets, but she must not have had time today.

Still cursing her forgetfulness under her breath, Janis pushes back her chair and clocks out of work, leaving her art internship to catch the next train home. If she hurries, she should be back in time to grab her lunch and eat it on the train back to work.

The subway delivers her to the stop about a hundred feet from the apartment she and her girlfriend inhabit together. Janis sprints inside, taking the elevator up to their floor - the fourteenth - and dashing down the red-carpeted hallway, nearly breaking her key in her urgency to open the lock.

She shoves open the door, darting over the hideous turquoise rug Cady insisted they line the entryway with, claiming that it reminded her of an oasis she loved to spend her time by during the summer. Janis can’t refuse her anything, and the ugly rug now glares garishly up at their visitors. 

She starts to make a left turn into the kitchen, but what lies directly in front of her stops her dead, her black flats grinding into the rug. “Caddie, love, what’s the matter?”

Her auburn-haired girlfriend lays sprawled across the chocolate brown couch they’d picked up from the thrift store for twenty dollars, her face pale and milky as she breathes shallowly, her eyes closed. As Janis calls her name, she gasps sharply, clutching her midsection weakly.

“Caddie, angel…” Lunch and work forgotten, Janis kneels by her side, stroking Cady’s sweaty hair away from her forehead, cringing at the heat coming from her skin. “Are you sick, love?”

Cady shakes her head slowly, tilting her head towards Janis. “Forgot my meds...kind of an important day to take them.”

Janis winces in sympathy, resting her hand on Cady’s shaky arm. “Oh, love...let me call work, okay? Let them know I can’t come back? You should have called, I would have come straight home…”

“What I was afraid of,” Cady pants, her back arching slightly as she gasps again, grabbing at her stomach. “Don’t want you...missing...work…”

“Nonsense,” Janis replies, shooting her boss a quick text explaining that her girlfriend is very sick and can’t be left alone. It’s a slight exaggeration; it’s not like a bout of endometriosis will kill her, but Janis hates to leave Cady alone when she’s in pain. “I sell sixty hours a week on a forty-hour internship to those bastards, they can work without me for four hours. What can I do, angel?”

“Heating pad…?” Cady suggests weakly, in too much pain to argue any further. “Under sink...microwave for two minutes...helps with the pain…”

 

“On it,” Janis replies, kissing her forehead lightly before pushing herself up in search of the heating pad. “I’ll be right back, love.”

She finds the light blue pad tucked behind the Windex under the kitchen sink. After popping it into the microwave, she turns to the refrigerator, fishing around for Cady’s favorite drink: extra sweet tea. Her girlfriend needs to stay hydrated, and Cady was willing to drink sweet tea when Janis accidentally gave her food poisoning the one and only time she tried to cook dinner unassisted. She pours Cady a glass of the tea, turning around just in time for the microwave to summon her with its irritating beeping tone.

Scooping up the now-warm pad, she strides back into the living room, handing a white-faced Cady the promised pad. “Here’s that, love...try to drink a little for me? I got you some sweet tea…”

Cady manages a weak smile, holding her hand out for the cup. “Thanks, babe. You’re too good to me.”

“Bullshit,”Janis replies, kneeling back down besides Cady to pepper her face with kisses and stroke her hair soothingly. “I am nowhere near good enough to you, because you are a literal angel, and to be good enough for you, I would need to be as perfect as you are. All I can do is my best.”

Cady laughs a little, her face tightening in pain immediately as she slips her hand into Janis’s. “You’re also too sweet to me. Come up here? I want cuddles…”

Janis nods immediately, kicking off her flats and clambering onto the couch besides Cady, pulling her girlfriend to lay in her arms. One hand resuming the stroking of her hair, Janis rubs her shoulders with the other, huffing a laugh as Cady moans in pleasure, her tense neck muscles relaxing under Janis’s hand. “So good…”

“You’ve always liked my hands,” Janis laughs, smiling as Cady flushes as bright red as her hair. “Anything else I can do for you, angel? I’ll bring you anything in this damn city, I swear, if it makes you feel better.”

Cady smiles weakly, turning her cheek into Janis’s palm as she tucks a strand of loose hair behind her ear. “A time machine is the only thing that could really fix this...but you’re nice too. I could do this for a long, long time…”

“I don’t think I can manage a time machine, love,” Janis replies, pressing a light, loving kiss to the back of Cady’s sweaty neck. “But you don’t need a time machine to keep me here with you, as long as you need me.”


	18. Say Yes

Janis is jealous.

 

And it’s a revolting feeling.

But she is. 

She’s jealous of her best friend’s boyfriend, and that makes her feel even worse.

Callum is tall, nearly as tall as Damian, but much lankier, donning a mop of blue hair and piercing green eyes that stare right through Janis. He’s quiet and pale and fades a little into the background, but Damian’s natural spotlight shines upon them both, and Janis hasn’t seen him look this happy since Philip.

And she hates it.

She’s been Damian’s number one since he sat next to her as she cried on a bench outside the school, hiding from her “friends” as she tried to process being abandoned by her father at the age of eleven. They’ve only had each other since the space dyke incident, and Janis has been more than okay with that. Even when Cady came into the picture, they’ve still been so, so close. 

And now Damian is on his fifth date with Callum in two weeks, and once again, neither Janis nor Cady is invited. 

It would be so much easier if Callum was a total douchebag. If only he’d be lesbophobic or call Janis a dyke or make fun of Cady’s autism or do something else awful. Then Janis could hate him and be righteously indignant with Damian for dating him. But Callum supports her relationship with Cady completely and talks to Janis about her favorite art and music and even once braided Cady’s hair into an elaborate fishtail-braided bun when she was having a meltdown to calm her, and he’s absolutely beyond reproach.

Which makes Janis feel even ickier inside.

When Cady comes over for their afternoon movie date, her face immediately changes upon seeing Janis’s expression when she opens the door. “Spill,” she orders instantly, kicking off her pink flats. Cady partially returned to her old look after the Plastics, buying back some of her flannels and boots, but she fell in love with some of the swishy skirts and pastel fashions she’d been wearing, resulting in an odd wardrobe mixed between rugged adventurer and Homecoming Queen. Today it’s a pastel day, with Cady in a soft pink top and floral skirt, an open denim jacket covering her arms. 

“Spill what?” Janis feigns ignorance, easing Cady’s jacket off her shoulders. “My shirt off? Okay, that was bad.”

“It was terrible,” Cady agrees, allowing Janis to slip off the denim jacket. “You’re not getting my skirt off until you tell me what’s going on, hmm?”

Janis swears under her breath, backing off slightly. Cady’s been at her wit’s end trying to convince Janis to open up more, but she’s a private person and it’s hard for her to talk about her feelings the way Cady wants her to. Forced abstinence is definitely a new method, but, Janis has to admit as she studies Cady’s long legs, an effective one.

“Caddie, nothing’s wrong,” Janis lies, pulling her girlfriend in for a kiss. “Come on…”

“Mm-mm,” Cady says firmly, kissing Janis chastely before reclaiming her space. “You gotta spill if you want the skirt off, babe.”

Cady’s voice is light and teasing, but her eyes are serious and pleading, the hand she extends to Janis drawing a sudden sting of tears to her eyes. Janis sighs heavily, blinking them back as she rests her hand in Cady’s. “Can we just...couch?”

Cady nods, brushing a kiss over Janis’s knuckles before leading her to the couch. As soon as they reach the living room, Janis sinks into Cady’s lap, head across her knees as anxiety taps at her thoughts.

He doesn’t need you anymore. He doesn’t want you anymore. He doesn’t wanna be your friend. He’s got Callum now. He was only with you because he didn’t have anyone else. You’re dead to him now.

“What’s going on, darling?” Cady asks softly, combing her fingers through Janis’s hair lightly. “You look so sad…”

“Anxiety,” Janis chokes out, already feeling the familiar shame that burns her cheeks at confessing her thoughts, even to her girlfriend. “I’m - I’m anxious, Caddie-”

Cady nods, her slight pause plunging Janis down a waterfall of uncertainty. She thinks you’re stupid. She hates you. She’s gonna break up with you. Why would she want to be with you? You’re annoying her. Stupid problems. Wasting her time.

“What about?” Cady asks gently, stroking her thumb over Janis’s cheek. “What’s the matter, darling?”

Janis shakes her head quickly, sealing her lips as tightly as she can. Cady will be disgusted with her if she knows why Janis is panicking, she’ll leave, she’ll tell Damian and they’ll hate her forever-

“Okay,” Cady says softly, squeezing Janis’s hand with her free hand. “I’m gonna guess and you tell me if I’m right or wrong, okay? Is it Regina?”

Janis shakes her head frantically, refusing to lie to Cady, even if Regina is an easy answer. Cady nods thoughtfully, continuing.

“Are you fighting with your mom?”

Janis shakes her head again. 

“Is work stressing you out?”

Another shake. Cady forges ahead. 

“Is it about Damian and Callum?”

Janis immediately tenses at their names, a few of the brimming tears spilling over at Cady’s voice. Cady makes a soft little gasping noise, gently brushing away the salty tears with her thumb. “Oh, baby...why?”

For a moment, Janis is locked in a fierce battle with her anxiety, fighting to speak, the rampant thoughts running through her head insisting Cady will hate her for what she’s about to say. And then the words are spilling out in a torrent that Janis can’t even begin to contain, like water pouring from a fire hydrant.

“He’s with Callum now ‘n he doesn’t like me anymore ‘n they’re always out together ‘n he skipped movie night with me last week to go hang out with Callum ‘n he doesn’t wanna be my friend ‘n he hates me-”

“Shh,” Cady murmurs, effortlessly corking the flow of painful words in the way only she can, her soft hands running through Janis’s hair comfortingly. “Shh, baby…”

Janis sobs into her skirt, clinging to Cady like a lifeline as her girlfriend plays with her hair, kissing her forehead lightly and drawing her closer, small hands stroking her hair and running down her back. Cady is soft and warm and close, comforting Janis in the way she always does, the sweet scent of her floral perfume surrounding Janis as she curls into her lap. 

Finally, her tears dry, but Janis doesn’t move. Cady doesn’t make her. “Jan, my love,” Cady murmurs, cupping Janis’s face in her hands. “Don’t you think Damian must have felt like this when we first got together?”

That strikes Janis silent, a bolt or realization hitting her like lightning. Oh…

“We had a honeymoon phase too,” Cady continues, kissing Janis’s nose. “And we were annoying as shit, baby. We broke off plans to go out together and shut Damian out and did nothing but make out for a month. But did you ever, ever think of me as a replacement for Damian?”

Janis shakes her head slowly, resting her chin in Cady’s palm thoughtfully. Cady continues, her voice sweet and gentle.

“That’s what’s happening to them, baby. They’re in love and they’re delirious on it. They’ll calm down soon and things’ll go back to normal, okay?”

Janis nods a little, looking up at Cady sadly. Her girlfriend smiles a little at her sad face, kissing her forehead. “You feeling a little better, baby?”

“You always make me feel better,” Janis murmurs, looking contentedly up at Cady. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Cady replies, looking back into her eyes. “You can take my skirt off now…”

“Caddie!” Janis snorts, poking her girlfriend in the stomach. “That’s what you’ve gotta say right now?”

“Just letting you know!” Cady exclaims defensively, rolling her eyes. “But if you don’t wanna…”

“I didn’t say that!”


	19. Take It All Away

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The closet door rattles with the force of the strikes to the deep brown oak. Veronica stifles a whimper as she scrabbles further back from the rattling hinges, pressing herself against the plaster wall. Soft blue chiffon fabric tickles her nose, a party dress on its hanger shielding her slightly from the door, giving the illusion of protection. 

The heavy thuds increase, the rattling brass hinges trembling with the effort of holding together the quivering doors. Veronica shrinks further back, holding back a whimper as she reaches for the fluffy chiffon, clinging to the fabric defensively.

With a horrible cracking noise, the flimsy hinges shatter, tiny pieces of brass littering the floor of the closet. The doors fly open with a bang, the deep black maw of the gun barrel protrudes rudely into her chest, aiming at her heart, and then that horrible ghastly grin gleams menacingly in the dim light of the closet.

“Chaos is what killed the dinosaurs, darling.”

And then a bang that tears the world apart, and the chiffon dress shatters into fractals like a broken prism, the world spinning like the inside of a kaleidoscope, and then Veronica shoots upright, navy blankets falling to the floor as she clutches at the slightly stinging sight of the imagined bullet wound. Her throat blisters painfully, sore from crying out in her sleep.

Slowly, the rush of adrenaline evaporates from her veins, leaving her exhausted and shaking, her heart pounding too fast and threatening to spring from her chest. And all that she knows as she shivers in her thin blue nightgown is that she needs to get to Heather. 

She doesn’t bother with changing into normal clothes, just throws on her deep blue blazer and runs, only pausing to slip on some periwinkle flats at the bottom of the stairs. It’s a chilly night; the summer heat has given way to the cold air of the darkness. Dim light emanates from the full and glowing moon, illuminating the cracked pavement before her. Cicadas chatter in the trees, their raspy songs filling the crisp, cool air. As her shoes slap against the pavement, the chill stings her face and ears, burning the delicate unprotected skin as if by frost.

Heather’s house is further away than her panicked mind registered, and in barely three minutes her lungs have begun to burn. Her feet ache in the delicate flats, shoes designed for a catwalk rather than a sprint. The flimsy nightdress flaps around her knees in the night breeze, giving her goosebumps on her exposed legs.

Something shuffles in the garbage can of a nearby house and Veronica remembers the recent distemper outbreak in the vast population of local raccoons.

Somewhere in a tree far above her head, an owl hoots softly, probably scolding her for scaring away the mice. Veronica mutters an apology without thinking, flushing slightly as the realization strikes that she’s apologized to a bird.

Maybe she really is going crazy.

The houses are slowly growing larger, the decorations more ornate, the lawns more ostentatious and uniformly trimmed. In other words, she’s getting into the rich people neighborhoods.

And Heather lives directly in the center of rich people neighborhood, with all the businessmen and lawyers and insurance providers and engagement ring-sellers.

Finally Veronica skids to a halt outside a towering white mansion, four stories tall, set before a sprawling emerald lawn. The back of even more lush, exotic fish splashing in the koi pond embedded under the little wooden bridge. As flawless as it presents to the average passerby, Veronica’s keen eye easily spots the white pipes powering the filters and fountain set in the koi pond.

In other words, her ladder to Heather’s window.

Heather doesn’t have a room so much as the entire fourth floor of the mansion. She’s an only child, and her parents can certainly afford to spoil her even more than the average sibling-less child. Veronica vividly remembers the Christmas during which Heather did indeed receive a pony at the tender age of seven. A slender white thing with one blue eye, Heather had allowed everyone to go for rides on the poor animal until it finally lost its temper with the children and kicked out at a red-bowed temperamental Heather Chandler. After that, Heather was placated with a kitten, and Veronica never saw the pony again. She’s fairly certain the poor thing met a grisly end in a slaughterhouse.

 

The pipes are damp from condensation and cold from the water gushing through their metal veins, numbing her hands as she crawls upwards. Heather leaves her bathroom window open every night, both to welcome in the chilly summer breeze and to allow Veronica entrance when necessary. The McNamaras have no knowledge of their relationship, and Veronica very well can’t stride in through the front door whenever she pleases, even if Heather has granted her permission. So the window is her secret entrance into Heather’s home, and as perilous as the climb is, Veronica is happy to make it to get to Heather.

Arms trembling from exertion, she clambers through the propped-open window and into Heather’s canary-yellow bathroom. As much as she loves her, Veronica has to admit that Heather’s taste in design is even poorer than her taste in men. 

Not that Veronica’s one to talk about poorly-chosen boyfriends.  
The hallway leading to Heather’s room is silent and dim, one straight passage to the lemon-yellow door at the end of the hall. Veronica slips quietly down the passageway, her flats barely squeaking against the wooden floorboards. Heather technically rules the fourth floor, but she chooses to sleep in the room at the end of the hall, reserving the other rooms for her television, books, and friends. It’s a miracle that Heather’s not far more stuck-up than she is, Veronica notes, passing the television room. She’s practically got her own personal motel up here.

Veronica taps lightly on the door, knocking out the predetermined rhythm to let Heather know it’s only her, not some robber or rapist who discovered the ladder of pipes. Heather is a light sleeper; the taps will awaken her easily.

For a moment, silence. Then Heather sleepily mumbles “Ronnie…?”

And then Veronica is in her arms, and Heather is squeezing her tightly, pressing little kisses to her forehead, and everything is okay.


	20. All I’ve Got

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, if someone you know has been poisoned, CALL POISON CONTROL BEFORE DOING ANYTHING. 
> 
> TW for graphic suicide attempt

Janis can’t breathe.

Iron bands have tightened around her lungs and she sobs, clutching at her aching stomach desperately. As the plastic orange bottle slips from her white-knuckled fist, it clatters against the cold bathroom tile with terrifying finality.

Oh, how she wishes she could take it back.

She regretted it as soon as the last of the pills went down, but it was already too late. Her vision is blurring, both from the tears and the drugs. God, she’s getting so dizzy...I’m sorry, Caddie…

Caddie.

Footsteps ringing down the hall. Cady screaming for her, and Janis immediately knows that Cady has already sensed what she’s done, or at least senses that something is deathly wrong. She must be so scared…

Cady bursts in, taking one look at Janis and the empty bottle on the floor before plunging her hand into her pocket for her phone. That’s one of so many things she loves about Cady; she doesn’t waste time taking action. No, this isn’t right, she doesn’t want to leave Cady, what was she thinking?

Cady’s voice wavers as she kneels by Janis, studying the bottle. “Poison Control? My name is Cady Heron. My girlfriend’s taken a full bottle of…” She pauses to read the label, face screwed up in concentration. Janis has always loved it when she crinkles her nose. “Ibuprofen. I don’t know what to do.”

Then she falls silent, the operator’s voice crackling through the phone. Cady nods a few times, gently cupping Janis’s cheek as she listens to the instructions. “Okay. Okay, I can do that. Yeah, I can do that. Okay. Yes, I have a car. Thank you.” Then she lowers the phone, her face grave and serious. “Jan, baby...I’ve gotta make you get sick and throw up the pills, okay? We’ve gotta get them out quickly, and then I’ll take you to the hospital. You’re gonna be okay, my girl.” And then before Janis can protest, can even reach out to pull her back, Cady is gone, padding quickly down the wooden halls.

Janis’s vision blurs and her stomach aches, rebelling in protest at the overload of medication forced into it, throat burning as pain reverberates throughout her torso. Hurry, Caddie, please...I don’t wanna go, I didn’t mean it…

And then Cady is kneeling in front of her, cupping Janis’s face once more, a cloudy glass cradled in one hand and the plastic bowl Janis uses for potato salad when she goes to potlucks. First thing she could find, most likely. “Drink, Jan…”

“Wh-what ‘s it…?” Janis mumbles, her voice slurring like she’s intoxicated, which is honestly how she feels as her head lolls to the side, supported only by Cady’s hand. 

“It’s mustard and water, baby, it won’t taste nice but it’s the quickest way. Here, drink…” Cady presses the rim of the glass to Janis’s dry, chapped lips, and Janis sips hesitantly, unsure of what to expect.

When she was six, Janis bit into a rotten pear, so old that it was practically dissolving, on a dare from Regina. She still recalls the awful spread of the mushy sickening bitterness coating her tongue and mouth, making her gag on the texture alone, and she had rushed to the sink to vomit up both the pear and the waffles she’d scarfed down for breakfast beforehand. This is so, so much worse.

Cady barely has time to thrust the plastic bowl under her mouth before a painful heave claws up a wave of barely-digested pills, burning her throat as her stomach contracts agonizingly. She barely has time to breathe before Cady forces another mouthful of the vile mixture into her mouth, triggering another flow of bile to splatter into the bowl.

Janis sobs weakly, trying to pull away, but Cady is relentlessly, forcing her to vomit until she cannot vomit anymore, retching up nothing but air. Only when she’s completely empty is Cady satisfied. Putting aside the bowl and the nearly-empty glass, Cady pulls her up, wrapping an arm around Janis’s waist to support her. “Come on, baby...we need to get to the hospital…”

The haziness sends Janis into a fit of nauseous coughing, her legs trembling underneath her. Even with Cady’s support, it’s all she can do to remain upright. As they stagger down the stairs, Janis’s head hanging low, she can hear Cady mumbling the Hail Mary under her breath, returning to her parents’ Catholic roots as she often does when she’s afraid. Janis internally winces at the quiet, murmured Latin, recalling all the pain Cady has been dealt at the hands of what was once the religions she adored. Even more guilt rushes through her at the thought of driving Cady back towards the groping, clawed arms of the church.

Cady pushes her into the front seat, snapping her fingers under Janis’s nose a few times to keep her awake. “Darling, you can’t sleep...you’ve gotta stay awake for me, my love…”

Janis whines a little in protest, reaching for Cady’s hand. “Mm...tired…”

“I know, angel, but you can’t sleep, not now…” Cady nudges her again, her voice tight with fear. “Here, love, tell me what you want to do if we get married, okay?”

“...if…?” Janis slurs, blinking oddly at Cady as she climbs into the driver’s seat. “...you d-don’t wanna…?”

“No, no, baby, of course I want to,” Cady murmurs comfortingly. “Bad choice of words, I’m sorry...what do you want, love?”

“...on the b-beach...sounds nice...look pretty with the - your dress…” Janis slurs, trying her best focus upon Cady in a white gown, standing on the shore of Lake Michigan, rather than the pounding in her head and the dizziness threatening to drown her. “N-nothin’ big…”

“A smaller wedding?” Cady guesses, her fingers lightly brushing Janis’s hand. “What would you want to wear, angel?”

“Suit...spring - the spring fling…” Janis mumbles, her head killing uncontrollably with the motion of the car. “Black one...know how y-you - you feel ‘bout tradition...little bit of - of white…’m a bride too, y’know…”

“You’ll - you’ll look beautiful, baby,” Cady promises, her voice hitching as she chokes up. “I’ll get you there, I promise…”

“Mm…’m sorry, Cads...gonna have to - to go away, leave you - ‘m sorry, Cads, I didn’t - didn’t mean it - don’t wanna go, Caddie, don’t wanna - wanna leave you - don’t ever wanna go away, won’t try it ‘gain…” Janis manages, her words running together like the flow of an awkwardly flowing brook. “‘M so sorry…”

“You’re gonna be okay, Jan, you’re gonna come back to me!” Cady insists, tears streaming down her pale, frightened face. “You’re gonna have to stay at the hospital for a little while, to get you the help you need, but you’re gonna be okay, you’re gonna come back to me, you’re gonna be there with me at the beach and you’re gonna have your suit and your white and anything you want, just stay with me, Jan!” Cady pleads, practically skidding to a halt outside the doors of the emergency room. “Come on, nearly there…”

And then Janis is torn away from Cady, strangers in green scrubs carrying her away, and she wants to fight, to get back so desperately, to go comfort Cady, because she can hear her sobs over the hurried shouts of the doctors, and she needs to get back to Cady. But she can’t get away, she can’t escape, she can’t get to Cady. Everything fades into a haze of pain and fear and guilt, and even surrounded by so many faces, Janis is alone. And then a suffocating mask is placed over her tear-streaked face, and the world spins under her gurney like a sadistic carousel, and the colors of the room lengthen and shift and elongate like the refractions of a prism, and then all of the twisted circus is drowned in merciful blackness.

—————————————————————

Everything hurts. Janis aches from head to toe, from the vicious migraine raging in her skull to a dull ache pounding through her muscles. Her stomach protests like she’s been punched, probably a holdover from the violent vomiting Cady had induced.

Oh, Caddie…

The memories come back slowly, in fractured bits and pieces like the shards of a shattered mirror. And most prevalent of al, above her pain and her fear and her fight to keep her eyes from closing, is the piercing memory of Cady’s sobs.

Janis doesn’t know where she is or what’s been done to her or even if she’s out of the woods yet. All she knows is that she has to write to Cady. 

It takes some arguing, but Janis finally manages to negotiate a piece of paper and an envelope out of her nurse. A phone call would be better, but she’s not allowed phone privileges, and beggars can’t be choosers. As long as Cady gets her message, that will have to be enough.

—————————————————————————

My beautiful, precious, sweet, amazing, brilliant Caddie,

That header is the sappiest you’ll ever hear me talk, so enjoy it now. I miss you, Caddie. So much. I tried to negotiate a phone call, but the nurses don’t find me charming enough for that, so this is the best I can do for now. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to write again, but I’ll try, love, I promise.

I’m so, so sorry, Cads. I don’t know what I was thinking, I regretted it as soon as I did it. It was the single stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my life, and I’m so, so sorry, my love. I promise I won’t ever scare you like that again. And I know I sound like a broken record, but I’m sorry, Cads.

I’ve promised my doctors that I won’t do it again. They’re giving me anti-depressants to help with how sad I get sometimes, and I have to see a therapist again, at least once a week. But if everything is still okay, I’ll probably be home in two weeks. And I’m ready to go home to everything I love, to my idiot cat and your idiot dog and the best girlfriend in the world. So consider this my formal request that you move into my apartment for good. Not just sleepovers. I want you to really, truly live with me when I come home. I thought I was gonna lose you, Caddie, and I don’t want to hesitate in my relationship with you ever again. I love you so, so, so, so, so much, Caddie, and I’m so, so, so, so, so sorry that I scared you. I’m gonna come home to you, Caddie, and I won’t leave you again, not if hell itself tries to drag me away.

All my love (okay, so maybe I’ll be sappy for you one more time),

Janis

P.S. I’ll hold you to Lake Michigan.


	21. Protective

They’re lying peacefully on the couch, cuddling in companionable silence, when Janis’s stomach rumbles ominously.

Until this point, Cady has been lying against her with her head in her shirt, but now she looks up, studying her girlfriend’s face. Janis has grown several shades paler since she first came over, her throat moving visibly as she swallows hard, her eyes half-closed.

“You okay, baby?” Cady asks sympathetically, kissing Janis’s hand softly. “Your poor stomach sounds awful…”

“‘M fine,” Janis mumbles, stifling a hiccup into her fist. “Got a stomachache...it’s nothing.”

Cady hums in sympathy, curling back up against Janis. “Tell me if it gets worse, yeah?” Janis mumbles an agreement, and Cady allows herself to slip blissfully back into a state of peaceful dozing, her head resting on Janis’s chest.

“Caddie…?” Janis mumbles suddenly, jerking Cady out of her reverie.

“Yeah, babe?” Cady responds instantly, lifting her head. Janis is even paler, sweat shining on her forehead as she clutches her angrily growling stomach. “Feeling worse?”

“Mm...think something didn’t agree with me,” Janis mumbles, whining as her stomach lets out a particularly displeased rumble. 

“Me too,” Cady agrees, kissing her forehead lightly. “I can get you some Pepto, love?”

“Please,” Janis moans, her hand flying to her lips as a small hiccup slips out of her. Cady nods and strides towards the kitchen, hastily fetching the pink bottle.

For a few minutes, the only sound punctuating the silence is the growls and rumbles emitting from Janis’s unsettled midsection. She sips slowly on the pink medicine, her head resting in Cady’s lap as her girlfriend strokes her hair soothingly, inching her fingers slowly towards the lower hem of Janis’s shirt.

As her fingers skim over the sensitive skin of her stomach, Janis whines softly, lifting her head a little. “Caddie, you don’t have to - it’s only been a few weeks, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable-”

“You’re sick, baby,” Cady murmurs in response, wincing as Janis’s stomach churns under her hand. “Just lay back, let me take care of you…”

Too miserable to protest further, Janis lays back slowly, shivering as Cady rolls back the hem of her paint-speckled shirt. Being careful not to press too hard, Cady rubs light circles over her stomach, running the fingers of her other hand through Janis’s hair. Her girlfriend lays prone over her knees, her chest rising and falling quickly as she breathes more heavily than normal.

Suddenly, she pipes up, her voice shaky and frightened. “Caddie...Caddie, I feel sick…”

“Shit,” Cady mumbles, lifting her hand away and gently easing Janis from her lap. “Think you can make it to the bathroom?”

Janis whimpers, shaking her head rapidly, a low cry escaping her as the movement worsens her nausea. “Don’t want to…!”

“Okay,” Cady says calmly, her eyes flicking around the room. “One second, I’ll get the trashcan-”

Janis wails louder, her eyes flashing with fright as she shakes her head, hugging her stomach and half-sitting up. “No, no, no, no, don’t want to, please, no-”

Cady sighs, snatching up the trashcan from the corner of the room. “Baby, I know it’s not fun, but you’ll feel better when it’s over, Jan, really. Here, just sit up for me, I don’t want you to choke-”

“Caddie, don’t make me!” Janis wails, clinging to her arm desperately. “Make it stop, make it stop, I don’t want to, I don’t wanna throw up, please!”

“Shh...shh, angel,” Cady murmurs, guiding Janis upright and setting the trashcan between her knees. “It’s okay, it’s all right, I know it’s scary, but you’ll feel so much better when it’s over...I’m here, angel, I’m here, I’ve got you…” She pulls the black hairtie from her wrist, pulling Janis’s hair back into a ponytail. Murmuring quiet reassurance, she rests a hand lightly on Janis’s stomach, thumping her back with gentle, rhythmic pats with her other hand. “Just get it up, Jan, you’re all right...you’re gonna be fine, just get all that out...you’re almost there, Jan, almost…”

Janis lets out a muffled sob, a series of hiccups rocking her frame as she hovers over the trashcan. She clings to Cady like a lifeline, gripping her arm tightly as she swallows down her nausea, biting back the acidic flow of vomit fighting to come up. Cady kisses her hair softly, pressing lightly on her stomach.

“Baby, don’t fight it, you’ll make it worse...just let your body do what it needs to do, okay? I know you’re scared, but everyone gets sick sometimes, you’re gonna be fine...you’ll feel better, too, really…” Cady sets the trashcan in her lap, running her hand under Janis’s shirt to rub her sweaty back. “It’ll be over soon…”

With another weak sob, Janis convulses, dry heaving over the trashcan. Another hiccupy sob escapes her before she dry heaves again, tears pouring down her cheeks and staining her shirt with dark splotches as she whimpers. “C-C-Caddie…”  
“I’ve got you, baby, I promise,” Cady murmurs, kissing her shoulder lightly. “I’m right here, my love...just get it over with, it’s nearly done…”

Janis heaves again, this time bringing up a thin stream of acid that trickles through her tear-wet, parted lips. She spits it into the bucket, letting a string of thick saliva trail from her lips. “Nearly there, Jan,” Cady encourages, pressing lightly on her stomach once more. “Get it up…”

With a choked sob, Janis heaves violently, a heavy flow of vomit splattering into the trashcan balanced precariously on her knees. Tears still falling quickly, she barely manages to suck in a breath before it continues, clogging her nose and stinging her throat as she retches over the small wastebasket.

Finally, she lifts her head, wiping her mouth on her sleeve in disgust. She’s still crying, her eyes glazed with tears and exhaustion. “Think you’re done…?” Cady asks softly, stroking a loose strand of hair back behind her ear.

Janis nods cautiously, sinking back into the couch and curling into a tiny ball, hugging her stomach miserably. Cady kisses her hair lightly before scooping up the trashcan, carrying it to the kitchen to wash out the contents. 

When she returns, Janis is blinking up at her miserably, her brown eyes frightened and tired, still red and puffy even though she’s stopped crying. Cady pulls her head gently into her lap, loosening her ponytail and running her fingers through her damp, sweaty hair. “How do you feel, my love?”

“Little better,” Janis mumbles pitifully, her voice raspy and dull. “Fuck, I hate being sick…”

“It’s over now,” Cady murmurs, squeezing her shoulder protectively. “It’s over, my love...just rest...you’ll feel better soon, angel…”


	22. Strawberry Wine

"Caddie, hurry up, we're going to be late!"

"Hang on, babe, I'm straightening my hair!"

"That'll take forever!"

"You don't say!" Cady calls back, running a straightener through her hair.

"Caddie, why do you even need a straightener, this is the gayest date in history!"

"Be that as it may, my hair looks like a tumbleweed!"

"A hot tumbleweed!" Janis screams back, adjusting the stupid with love necklace Cady gave her for their first Christmas together. "Love, they'll eat without us at this rate!"

"Janis, you had to shove Damian headfirst at his boyfriend, do you seriously think that boy can do anything that independent?"

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Cal, come on, they'll never get here!" Damian whines playfully, leaning his head on his taller boyfriend's shoulder. "I know those two, they'll probably be another half hour..."

"And I don't want my head bitten off by Janis," Callum replies, ruffling Damian's hair affectionately. "Your best friend is scary...except when she's looking at Cady, that is."

"Cady has softened her up significantly, trust me," Damian sighs, wrapping his boyfriend's arms around his shoulders, basically stealing a cuddle. "Janis fought the entire football team once, and she would have won if Shane hadn't tripped her."

"Didn't get too bored, did you, boys?" Janis calls, stumbling awkwardly in her midnight blue heels. She's wearing a deep navy blue dress she borrowed from her mom with a black shrug to cover her arms, her hair pinned up like she wore to the Spring Fling. Cady nearly fell down the stairs yet again at the sight.

"We didn't, no thanks to you, Sarkisian," Callum shoots back, teasingly pushing Damian off of him. "Or you, Cady. Damian nearly starved to death, so I hope you're happy."

Cady giggles, pushing her pin-straight auburn hair back. She's favored a lighter look, wearing a soft pink dress and peachy sandals, revealing her pink-painted toes. The only hint of darkness is a black bracelet Janis made for her, which adorns her slim, graceful wrist. "You look great, boys, even if Damian's about to drop dead."

"I'm on my last legs," Damian moans dramatically, draping himself theatrically over Callum. "You've nearly killed me, you useless lesbians."

"I'm bisexual," Cady teases, resting her elbow on Janis's shoulder.

"Whatever," Damian whines, still hung like a damsel in distress over Callum. "Can we eat now before I starve to death and die?"

"Hmm, what do you think, love?" Janis teases, wrapping an arm around Cady's waist. "Shall we let Damian eat before he takes Callum down with him?"

"I think we can save him," Cady agrees, kissing Janis's cheek. "Let's go in!"

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The waiter seats them towards the back of the restaurant, eyeing them disapprovingly, but they're used to it and Janis only "accidentally" steps on his foot twice.

Cady and Janis sit across from Damian and Callum. The boys have scraped together two suits, black for Callum and dark grey for Damian. But they couldn't resist adding little touches of their own like Cady and Janis have. Damian wears a deep black tie decorated with thin silver trees, a very Callum color scheme, while Callum's tie is the same shade as Damian's beloved pink shirt.

They don't do "fancy" dates much; Cady and Janis usually watch Netflix and eat tacos or delivery pizza in their sweatpants on date night, and Callum and Damian haven't been together long, but they usually end up at either theatres or poetry slams. But this is their first double date, and they decided they might as well go all out.

Janis and Callum get along very well; they're into the same bands and end up in an half-hour discourse on all the hidden meanings in "Na Na Na (Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na.)" He doesn't have as much in common with Cady, but they're good friends anyways; opposites must attract.

After dinner, the waiter ushers them out as quickly as possible, casting a disdainful glance at Cady's hand on Janis's arm. "Where to now?" Cady asks, leaning against her girlfriend happily.

"I've got an idea," Callum offers, tracing casual patterns on Damian's arm. "There's a book store downtown, we can go there?"

"Books?" Cady squeals, squeezing Janis's hand. "I love books!"

"Well, she's sold," Janis says lovingly, kissing her girlfriend's cheek. "Damian?"

"Who could say no to that sickening display of adorableness?" Damian teases, nudging Cady with his foot. "To the bookstore!"

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Have you guys seen Caddie?" Janis asks, confused. Cady squealed and rushed off the second they entered the bookstore, and while it's sweet that she's so happy, Janis hasn't been able to find her again.

"I'm over here!" calls a muffled voice from a few feet away.

"Where?" Callum calls, looking around for the familiar redhead, but she's nowhere to be seen.

"Here!" Cady squeaks, and the three of them collectively realize that the "bookshelf" behind them is actually Cady carrying her horde of books.

"Oh my god, Caddie," Janis gasps, rushing forward. "Give me a few of those, love, you've practically got your own library there."

"Is that the entire Mortal Instruments series?" Damian gasps, carrying his own, although much smaller, stack of books.

"Feels like it," Janis grunts as she pulls a stack of books from Cady's arms, making her adorable freckled face visible once more. "Caddie, love, maybe pare these down a bit? It's barely nine, and we still have to walk back to the car; I really don't think we can take all these."

"Aww," Cady pouts, blinking sadly up at Janis. "Are you sure...?"

 

"Pretty sure, love," Janis affirms, stabilizing her own stack of books. "Come on, I'll help you put them back."

The girls walk away, leaving Damian and Callum alone in the store. "They're both disasters," Callum sighs, taking Damian's hand. "Those are your best friends, babe."

"I know," Damian responds, leaning against Callum and sighing as his boyfriend wraps an arm around him. "But they're my disasters."

"Hey! Hey, Mr.!" 

They turn around as one to see a little boy, about five, staring up at them in awe. "Are you guys dating?"

"Yeah, yeah, we are," Callum responds, protectively tightening his grip on Damian. 

"Cool! I'm allowed to do that?" the boy screams, practically jumping with joy.

"If you want," Damian says with a shrug. "You're allowed to date whoever you want."

"Yes! I'm gonna get a boyfriend!" the boy screams, bolting away just as fast as he arrived.

"Well," Callum says after a moment, clearly trying not to laugh. "That happened."

"It did, and it was adorable," Damian sighs, kissing Callum's cheek. "I love you, Cal."

"Love you too, Dame. Come on, want to go find the girls and get ice cream or something?"

"That sounds great, if the disaster lesbians made it up the stairs alive."


	23. Need To Have More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: smut

Cady giggles, clambering slowly into Janis’s lap, the lacy slip she replaced her work outfit with slipping loosely over her soft skin. “I came home early, just for you.”

Janis grins at her, the tiny freckles dotting her cheeks standing out in such close proximity, her loose hair dangling around her face. “Early enough to get changed, I see. I’m still in my work clothes.”

“Why don’t I help with that?” Cady suggests, pressing her lips to Janis’s collarbone as she tugs at the buttons of her suit jacket. Janis laughs a little, arching her back as Cady sucks lightly on her neck, leaving faint red marks behind as she opens the suit jacket.

“You really want to do this here? Bed’s more comfortable.”

“We can do it there too,” Cady replies, biting her neck lightly and laughing softly as an involuntary moan escapes Janis’s lips. “But that’s so far…”

Janis grins, slipping her hands under Cady’s slip to grip her hips, scratching lightly with the short, rounded nubs of her nails. “Can’t argue with that. Hurry up and get that jacket off, I want to see what’s under all the lace.”

“You act like you haven’t seen it before,” Cady teases, easing the jacket away and starting on her blouse. “Expecting anything new?”

“It’s so beautiful I need to see it again in person,” Janis counters, shimmying her hands up Cady’s sides to tickle her ribs. “Not just in my memories.”

“Go ahead, then,” Cady offers, lifting her arms up to allow Janis to tug the lacy slip over her head. “Take what you want, my love.”

“How can I resist an offer like that?” Janis leans in to kiss her, nipping her lip teasingly, before pulling the thin, silky fabric upwards, leaving Cady completely bare on her lap. “Shit, you’re beautiful. Get my shirt off, will you?”

Cady giggles and tugs away her blouse, reaching behind Janis to unclasp her bra. “Tickle me some more.” 

Janis arches her back as Cady pulls away her lacy black bra, moaning in ecstasy as she runs her hands down Cady’s sides, gripping her hips lightly. “You gonna lay down or what, love? I want to see all of you.” She pushes Cady’s shoulders lightly, nudging her out of her lap. Cady uses the push to her full advantage, falling gracefully backwards onto the couch, her silky auburn hair fanning out under her as she blinks up at Janis. Her wife stares hungrily back at her, her dark brown eyes gleaming with lust as she slips away her pants, baring her own skin to the dim light shining through the windows, a remnant of the setting sun.   
Holding up a finger, Janis turns to the windows, tugging the dark curtains over them to hide the living room for view, leaving them in semi-darkness. Then she rolls smoothly on top of Cady, trailing soft kisses over her neck and collarbones, tracing her way slower down to her stomach. Every few kisses she nips her skin lightly, making Cady shudder with pleasure and leaving small red marks freckling her body like constellations.

“You lost, babe?” Cady mumbles impatiently, bucking her hips under Janis. “Need directions?”

“I’m just taking the scenic route,” Janis chuckles, running her hand down Cady’s thigh. “The view from up here is amazing, after all.”

“Could you maybe look later and get to it now?” Cady hisses, the hair on her legs standing upright in arousal. “You’re torturing me, babe…”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Janis teases, gently spreading her thighs apart. One finger flicks lightly against Cady’s slit, and Janis huffs a laugh, grinning up at Cady. “Excited, are we? You’re dripping…”

“You’re so horny,” Cady murmurs, falling limp under Janis against the arm of the couch. “Why don’t you take care of me, baby? The sooner you do, the sooner it’s your turn…”

Janis’s face immediately changes eagerly and she slips two of her fingers inside of Cady, grinding lightly against her, laughing as Cady immediately moans, throwing her head back. “Fuck, yes,” Cady moans, wrapping her arms around Janis’s neck loosely to draw her closer. 

“You sure you wanna put your arms there, babe?” Janis teases, kissing Cady sweetly as the smaller girl’s hips buck against her own. “I’m not complaining, I just thought you might like my head elsewhere…”

 

Cady immediately moans eagerly, releasing her grip on Janis’s neck as the hairs on the back of her neck stand erect at the low teasing in Janis’s voice. With a huff of a laugh, Janis lowers herself until she's eye level with Cady's legs and then she's gone, only her bare back visible, but Cady doesn't notice that, because the sensations between her thighs goes from great to mind-blowingly incredible. 

Janis knows Cady well, where to touch and where to suck to get her hot, and within minutes, crashing waves of pleasure like an ocean of delight wash over her as a thrill runs through her whole body, technicolor waves like the insides of a kaleidoscope dancing over her eyes. The orgasm practically throws her from the couch, only Janis’s strong, lean arms holding her steady as Cady pants breathlessly, head thrown back and eyes closed, hips still bucking weakly from the aftereffects.  
Slowly, the strength of the orgasm wanes, and Cady is left gasping for breath, her chest heaving as the remaining embers of their love burn in the pit of her stomach, warm and sensual and lasting. But Janis has only given her a taste, and Cady is ready to stoke the flames.

“Bed,” Cady pants, throwing her arms around Janis’s neck as her wife straightens like a whip, dark eyes gleaming with eagerness. “Bed now.”

Without hesitation, Janis scoops her up, moaning hungrily as Cady’s legs wrap around her waist, grinding on her as she’s carried up the far-too-long flight of stairs to their bedroom. “I want you to slam me into the mattress so hard we need a new one,” Cady pants breathlessly, her breath hot and heavy in Janis’s ear as she pushes Cady down onto the crisp linen sheets, already rummaging in the nightstand drawer for the strap.

Her hands fumble as she hurries to buckle the harness, reduced to a frantic mess of limbs and burning ache by Cady’s touch. Finally, the last buckle snaps in place and Janis lunges for the bed, her whole body pleading for Cady’s touch once more.

“Your wish is my command,” Janis promises as she runs her hands down Cady’s thighs.


	24. It Doesn’t Fit You

Janis, quite frankly, looks like shit.

She's been having a terrible day at school. Regina tripped her earlier, nearly sending her tumbling down a flight of stairs. She would have if Cady hadn't caught her. Then Mr. Gunn, the English teacher, caught Shane Oman copying off of Janis and failed them both, even though Janis had absolutely no idea he was cheating. The 'F' sent her grade spiraling down to a 'C,' which means Janis had to text her mom explaining that she had a 'C' average, receiving back a 'we'll talk when I get home tonight,' meaning she's probably going to get yelled at and potentially grounded for something not her fault. As she was trying to eat at lunch, Dawn Schweitzer told her that no one like a space dyke and she should just go ahead and slit her wrists, the whole school'd be better off. And then one of the "Christian believers" came up to her, handed her a pamphlet for conversion therapy, told her she was going to hell if she didn't repent, and promised that one day she'd pay for her actions.

Janis has a tough shell, but the others can get through the cracks, and once someone wiggles through, it gets easier for everyone else to join in. Janis is now white-faced and pale, her head resting on Cady's shoulder as they lay on her bed, hiding out at the Herons' house. Cady is trying to calm her down, stroking her hair and holding her as if she'll evaporate if she lets go even a tiny little bit, but it doesn't seem to be helping. Janis still shakes with anxiety, curled up into Cady's side. She's gone completely nonverbal, which doesn't happen much.

Cady is debating the idea of pleading with Janis to eat something - her girlfriend doesn't eat breakfast unless Cady makes her and she took barely three bites at lunch - when Janis starts shaking much more violently, hot tears soaking into Cady's flannel shirt.

"Jay, baby, are you okay?" Cady asks softly, cupping her hand under Janis's chin and lifting her head up. "Hey, look at me. Are you okay?"

Janis shakes her head frantically, burying her head in Cady's shirt. Cady immediately wraps her as tightly as she can into her arms, rubbing her back soothingly. "Shh, Jay, baby, mpendwa mmoja, shh, it's okay, I've got you, I've got you. Hey, hey, shh, shh. You're okay, you're okay, I've got you, I've got you, I promise. Take a deep breath. Breathe for me, just breathe. Hey, shh, it's okay, you're okay. It's just me. It's okay."

"Caddie..." Janis sobs, clinging to her like a lifeline. "Caddie!"

"Okay, okay. Jay, baby, can you do something for me? Please?"

Janis nods frantically, shivering as Cady rubs her back soothingly. "Can you tell me five things you can see?"

Janis shudders, gasping for breath. "Your - your eyes."

"Good. You're doing good. Four more."

"C-carpet. It's brown."

"Yeah, yeah it is. Good."

"Ceiling. Ceiling's white."

"Mm-hmm. You're breathing a little better. Two more."

"Your - your shirt. And the - the b-blanket."

"Okay, good. Really good." Cady leans over and turns on her phone, picking "The Light Behind Your Eyes," one of Janis's favorite songs. "How about four you can hear?"

"S-song," Janis manages. "Um...you. Your - your voice."

"Good, that's two. Two more?"

"Um...me. Breathing. And the - the air conditioning."

"You're doing really, really good, Jay. You're doing good. I'm proud of you. Three things you can touch?"

"Your-your hands. And the bed. And - and my jacket."

"Good, you're doing really well. How about two you can smell?"

"Your shampoo. Your hair smells nice. Like - like lavender."

"My shampoo is called Lavender Fields," Cady says, smiling a little. "One more?"

"Your - your dog," Janis mumbles. "Brandi. She - she needs a bath, I think."

"We can give her one tomorrow," Cady responds, soothingly combing her fingers through Janis's hair. "You're almost done. How about one thing you can taste?"

"Salt," Janis manages, trying to stop crying. "Tears."

"Good," Cady says, kissing her forehead. "You feel any better?"

"A - a little. I hate panic attacks." Janis slumps into Cady, using her as a support. "They - they wear me out, and I feel all - all shaky -"

"Shh, it's okay," Cady says gently. "We've got all afternoon to just rest. Lay down and rest. I'm going to get you some water, okay? I'll be right back."

Janis nods unsteadily, resting her head on the pillow. Cady brushes her hand over her hair and then leaves to go get a glass of water.

She fills a cup and starts to go back up the stairs, moving slowly. She hates it when this happens to Janis, when she gets quiet and pale and anxious, when she can't breathe and sobs helplessly into Cady's arms, when she's too tired to move after having a panic attack and just lays limply in Cady's lap, looking dead and exhausted and weak.

Cady opens the door and walks in to find Janis curled up in a tiny ball under a heap of blue and yellow fabric. 

"Is that my Mathletes jacket?" Cady asks, amusement tinging her voice as she sets the water cup down on the nightstand.

Janis blushes to her roots. "I'm - I'm sorry, I should have asked first, just - it - it reminded me of you."

Cady smiles and settles down next to her on the bed. "It looks good on you. Doesn't really fit, though."

Janis wriggles closer, collapsing back onto Cady. "It - it smells like you. Like lavender and pencil shavings and the library. That's - that's all I need."


	25. My Girl

"Damian, I cannot do this!"

"Sure you can. Hold still, I'm still using the straightener, though I don't think it's doing much good...you're clearly still a lesbian."

"This is not the time for jokes! My first date ever is in two hours, and it is with the girl of my dreams that I am madly in love with, and I do not want to mess this up!"

"You won't. Seriously, hold still unless you want a brand spanking new bald patch just before your date."

"What if she wants me to kiss her? How do I know if she wants me to kiss her? How do I kiss her?"

"JanJan, are you seriously asking me about female romantic behavior?"

"Damian, please, you've actually had a relationship before, I need help!"

Damian sighs, straightening another chunk of her hair. He's recreating her Spring Fling hairstyle, since she looked so amazing in it. "If she wants you to kiss her...it's Caddie. She'll probably either straight-up ask you for the kiss, or she'll lean in and expect you to close the gap. It's not rocket science. If she goes for a kiss, put your lips on hers, try not to drool on her, and relax. It's your first date, she's not going to expect any kind of showstopping makeout session from you."

"But what if she does?" Janis asks nervously, twisting a hairbrush anxiously in her fingers. 

"Then you need a new girlfriend," Damian replies, finishing her hair. "Have you decided what you're going to wear yet?"

"No! That's your job!" Janis moans, slamming her head into the sink.

"JanJan, sweet, as much as I adore you, you might want to learn how to dress yourself at some point," Damian sighs, starting to go through her clothes. 

He returns a minute later with an outfit. "So you're going for the look of "this is a casual date but I still tried to look nice for you because I'm interested in being not-so-casual," Damian announces, handing her the outfit. "Wipe that panicked look off your face, you're not showing much skin, I've got you covered. Your swirly cutout tights, a black skirt with just a touch of white - would you stop looking so freaked out, it's just two white lines at the bottom - and a cute black top with some white accents. No, you're not wearing your army jacket, you can wear the black leather one."

"But I want to wear my army jacket!"

"Your army jacket will ruin your aesthetic. When you and Caddie are more of a thing, you can wear it, but right now, you need to let her know you're serious about her, and a coordinating outfit is a good start. Got it?"

"Got it," Janis sighs, slumping over the table. "It's just...I don't know any of these rules, or how this works, or what to do, or how to date someone...I don't know any of it. I've never been on a date and I don't know what to do or how to talk to her or how to let her know how I feel about her...I'm scared, because I'm really, really in love with her and I have been for a while now and she's finally starting to fall for me too, and I really, really don't want to fuck this up."

"Hey," Damian says gently, tilting her chin up. "You're not going to fuck it up. She loves you, not some carefully put-together prop telling her whatever you think she wants to hear. When she sees you, tell her how beautiful she looks, but do it your way. She's in love with Janis Sarkisian, and that's why she agreed to this date, and she's going to have a great time with the greatest girl in the world."

Janis giggles a little at the description. "The greatest girl in the world?"

"One hundred percent," Damian replies lightly, angling her face towards the light to make her makeup better. "You're going to kill it, JanJan."

Somewhat reassured, Janis leans back a little to let him do her makeup. As soon as he's done, however, she opens her mouth again.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" she asks quietly, catching his wrist as he backs away.

Damian tilts his head, trying to figure out how to reassure her without lying to her. Finally he sighs. "JanJan, this could backfire, dates always can," he says finally. "Theoretically, she could be a total bitch and do something really shitty to you. But odds are she's as scared and tentative as you are and she's got nothing planned. It's Caddie, JanJan, she couldn't come up with an evil plan on her own for anything, she needs help, and she's not taking help from anyone who might try to hurt you. I think you're safe."

Janis sighs slightly and releases him, shifting anxiously yet again. He gets the feeling this isn't the last nervous question he'll be getting.

“My best friend is a homosexual trainwreck.”

—————————————————————————

 

"Janis, you look...you look gorgeous," Cady says softly. She's in a casual pink dress that falls to her knees and cinches at her waist, accentuating her figure. Next to her slim, peach-clothed figure, Janis feels like Wednesday Addams in her dark outfit.

"Thanks...you look great too," Janis says awkwardly. Oh my God that was a weak compliment, she called me gorgeous and I said great, I'm a fucking idiot-

"Thanks." Cady does a little twirl on the spot, making Janis's heart spin along with her. "Um...want to go?"

"Sure," Janis says shakily, hoping her hands aren't trembling as much as her knees are. "Um...where are we going?"

Shit that sounded accusatory I sound like a bitch she's going to leave-

"There's an ice cream shop a few blocks down, we can walk there?" Cady suggests. She doesn't so mad why doesn't she sound mad she should sound mad why isn't she mad maybe she is mad and she just doesn't want me to know she's mad but what if she's not mad but maybe she is mad and she sounds mad and I'm just too dumb to notice this was a bad idea why did I say yes to this date she's just going to end up hating me-

"Okay," she squeaks, her voice high-pitched and anxious. Cady eyes her funny but doesn't comment. Well if she wasn't mad before she is now.

They walk off together. As they walk side by side, Cady's soft hand brushes Janis's callused one. Does she want me to hold her hand I think she wants me to hold her hand should I hold her hand but what if she doesn't want me to that'd be bad but it's also bad if she does want me to and I don't-

She takes a risk, closing her hand over Cady's. Fortunately, the smaller girl squeezes back, and Janis is fairly sure she's done the right thing, though maybe Cady's just being nice? Maybe she didn't want Janis to hold her hand at all and she's way overstepping her boundaries and coming across as gross and disrespectful?

The ice cream shop seems eons away, and although Janis is relieved that the anxiety of over whether or not she's allowed to hold Cady's hand is gone, she misses the warm, reassuring presence in her hand.

Cady orders strawberry and Janis gets chocolate. Even in their ice cream flavors, they're on two sides of a spectrum. At Cady's suggestion, they sit on a bench and watch the people pass by, making mindless small talk. Everything Cady says, from "where'd you get your shoes?" to "how'd you get into art?" fills her with anxiety. What if she says the wrong thing, what if she means the wrong thing, what if she offends Cady by accident, what if she's sharing too much, what if she's sharing too little, what if she's talking about herself too much, what if she comes across as closed off, what if, what if, what if, what if, what if...

It won't stop. Thoughts rage and roar through her mind, making her stomach churn and her hands shake and her whole body quake with anxiety. She can't breathe, she can't calm down, she can't stop thinking.

"Janis, you okay?" Cady asks nervously, studying her face, and Janis realizes she must be whiter than a sheet and biting her lip.

"Bathroom," Janis chokes out, knowing only that she needs to see Damian and hear his voice. She strides away into the bathroom inside the ice cream parlor, barely managing to dig her phone out and dial Damian's number - thank God he's on speed dial - before the tears spill over.

"Shit, JanJan, what happened?" Damian asks immediately, voice taut with worry.

"A-anxiety," Janis stutters out, crying harder. "I - I - I d-don't..."

"Shh, sweet, it's okay..." he murmurs soothingly. "Where's Cady, JanJan?"

"Outside...I t-told her...told her...bathroom," Janis stammers, black mascara tears pouring down her face.

"Okay, okay, good. That's good. Breathe for me, okay? Deep breath. In and out, hold it for a few seconds. Just breathe. You're okay, you're going to be okay."

Janis forces herself to breathe, trembling against the cold tile. Slowly, the surging waves of anxiety fade away, leaving her trembling, shaky, and exhausted, but no longer petrified.

"Okay," Damian says firmly, taking charge of the situation. "What's making you anxious?"

"E-everything," Janis whimpers, drawing her knees up to her chest. "Holding her hand, talking to her...all of it!"

"Shh. Hey, listen. Are you anxious because you don't like her, or anxious because you do?"

"I - I do," Janis murmurs. "I - I really, really l-like her, and I don't want to fuck this up, because for once, I actually...I actually like someone, and I think she l-likes me back, and...that's it, I think..."

"Okay. JanJan, listen to me, sweet. I have an idea."

"I-idea?" Janis asks hopefully.

"Go outside, okay, and tell her the truth, all of it, and let her know why you're so upset."

"Damian, what? I can't do that, she'll hate me, she'll think I'm ridiculous-"

"JanJan, I guarantee you, you are running out of time to save this date. She'll think you don't like her, not that you're worried about her not liking you. You can do this. I believe in you."

"You do?" Janis sniffles, wiping her eyes.

"I do. Greatest girl in the world, remember? You've got this."

"Thanks, Damian. I - I'll let you know."

Janis hangs up. She takes a moment to compose herself, mopping as much of her ruined makeup off as she can, and leaves the bathroom, returning to Cady.

"Janis? There you are, I was worried - oh my God, have you been crying?" Cady asks anxiously, reaching out for her, her face full of kindness and concern.

"I - yeah," Janis admits, taking a seat next to Cady. "Caddie - I need to tell you something."

"Go ahead," Cady says immediately, resting her hand on Janis's shoulder.

"Caddie, I - I have a disorder, called generalized anxiety. Basically, it makes me overthink everything and get nervous about everything and worry about everything and just be anxious, all the time, about stuff that people shouldn't even be anxious about, and...I've been really, really anxious about this date, Caddie, because I -" Janis takes a deep breath and forges ahead. "I like you a lot, Caddie, and I really want this to go well and have a lot more like it, and so I've spent this whole time nitpicking every move I make making sure it's the right thing, and it got to be too much, and I needed to go calm down. I'm sorry if I scared you, I just - I needed a minute. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before...it's not something I like to talk about..." Janis closes her eyes, waiting for a reaction from Cady, unsure of what it'll be.

Then Cady takes her hand and squeezes it gently. "I'm glad you told me. I was a little scared, because I like you a lot too, and I also want to have a lot more dates like this. I'm really glad that there's not something terribly wrong, I was beginning to think you hated me. You don't have to nitpick, okay? I don't know anything either, I'm the homeschooled jungle freak. Odds are if you don't know what the "right" thing is, I have no idea either. It's okay, all right? We'll figure this out together. Sound good?"

Janis genuinely smiles, squeezing Cady's hand back. "Sounds good."

 

Cady returns her smile before lowering her voice. "Is it okay if I kiss you?"

Janis, for once, stops thinking and goes with her heart. "That is so incredibly okay."

Cady Heron's lips taste like strawberry ice cream.


	26. Good For You

"Caddie, love, are you sure?"

"Yes, for the last time. Jay, I really want this. I've always wanted a tattoo. And I want you with me, because I'm going to need the moral support and I love you. Plus I need someone who can actually draw to plan it for me."

"I drew what you wanted. Butterfly with wings in the colors of the bi flag, like you said. Just, Caddie, they're permanent, and they hurt a lot, and they can get infected-"

"Jay. Baby. We've been over this. I'm going to a reputable tattoo parlor. It will be sanitary. There's not a lot of nerves in the collarbone, which is where I'm getting it done. It'll be a little uncomfortable, but nothing I can't handle. And Jay, I thought this through. I want this. Please, stop trying to talk me out of it."

"I am, aren't I? I'm sorry, Caddie, I just - I worry about you too much, because I love you, and I don't want anything to happen to you, and if I had my way I'd wrap you up in bubble wrap forever and protect you from everything, but I can't-"

"Jay, baby, mpendwa mmoja, you don't need to protect me," Cady says softly, taking Janis's hands in her own. "I love that you care so much, but I can protect myself. I'm very fierce, remember?"

Janis giggles a little, squeezing Cady's hands. "Fierce indeed, love. And I would like to make a petition for you to call me mpendwa mmoja forever and always until the end of time, and I don't even know what it means."

Cady laughs, kissing Janis's knuckles softly. "It's Swahili for dear one, and I'll gladly call you that forever. Come on, my appointment's in twenty minutes."

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cady takes her seat and removes her shirt, revealing her collarbone where she wants the tattoo. "I can't wait for this!"

"So you know it's not going to look like the drawing, not at first, right?" the tattoo artist says, preparing her needle. "You can expect some pain, swelling, redness, inflammation, and general discomfort for the first week or longer. Plus it's going to burn, quite a lot to get."

"I know," Cady says determinedly. "But I've always wanted a tattoo! I can't wait!"

"Okay, then. I'll clean your shoulder and get started outlining."

Cady smiles at Janis, her eyes shining. "I'm finally getting my tattoo!"

"Uh-huh," Janis mumbles, nervously eyeing the rack of needles. She doesn't like how long they are, or how sharp, or how shiny.

Cady sees where she's looking. "Jay, babe, you're not even the one that's getting stabbed with them! Why are you freaking out?" she exclaims, laughing.

"I'm not freaking out. I'm fine." Janis takes Cady's hand. "You won't be, though, when you have a four-inch needle in your shoulder."

"I'm not scared of them."

"Yet."

The tattoo artist finishes cleaning the shoulder and sets to work outlining the tattoo with Sharpie. "Last chance to change your mind," Janis teases, half-serious. "After this, you're inked forever."

"What, are you not into girls with tattoos?"

"On the contrary, I find a constant reminder telling me you're bi and mine pretty hot. But I do think you'll regret this in ten years."

Cady shrugs. "Probably. But it's 2018, 2028. I'm gonna live a little."

"Okay, I'm starting. Get ready."

Cady takes a deep breath and squeezes Janis's hand. The needle slips in.

Oh God.

The sight of the needle sinking into Cady's soft skin is too much. Janis stares, horror-struck yet fascinated, as the massive needle disappears into Cady's soft, pearly skin. 

"Jeez, Jay, you look like I've been stabbed," Cady teases, squeezing her hand. "You're here to help me, remember? Not the other way around?"

"I'm sorry," Janis mumbles, still staring at the massive needle. "I just - it's just - needles - they - they fuck me up pretty bad - even in other people-"

"Aww, Jay," Cady says sympathetically. "Try to relax. I'm going to get poked with a needle a lot of times in the next few hours; you'd better get used to it,"

The needle re-enters Cady's skin, leaving a tiny hole behind. The sight makes Janis dizzy and sick, the world swooping under her feet disorientingly like a sadistic carousel. 

"Jay? Baby, you look like death," Cady says nervously, snapping her fingers under Janis's nose. "I asked if you were okay?"

"I think I need to sit down," Janis murmurs, her head spinning. It's like her head is a helium balloon floating far, far away. She's still dizzy and her stomach is churning, and Cady's hand is the only thing keeping her steady. 

"Go," Cady says instantly. "I'll be fine. Take a minute, get a few deep breaths, try to relax. You really don't look so good, babe. Get some rest."

"Are you-"

"Yes. Go. Baby, you look like you're about to pass out, and I really don't want that. Go over there and wait away from the needles."

Janis sighs. "Thanks, Caddie. I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you somehow-"

"No need," Cady responds, smiling kindly. "I know you don't like needles, babe. Once I'm done we can swing by the pizza place or something, hmm?"

 

"Sounds good," Janis replies, managing a weak smile. "I'll just go - over there. Very far away from your death needles."

She stumbles away, trying to cover up her guilt. Cady asked her to go with her to fulfill one of her dreams, be there by her side, holding her hand, helping her get through the hard part to get something she's wanted for forever, and Janis can't even make it five minutes because of a little - all right, not little - needle.

She's the shittiest girlfriend on the planet.

Janis takes exactly three minutes to pull herself together. Three minutes to breathe. Three minutes to relax. Three minutes to think.

Then she walks back over to Cady and takes her hand once more.

"Jay, you're still so pale, you shouldn't-" Cady protests at once, but Janis cuts her off.

"Shh. I'm going to be here for you, even if I feel like I'm going to pass out the whole time," Janis replies, squeezing her hand firmly. "Don't argue with me, Heron. I may not be able to encase you in bubble wrap, but I can do this much."

"Can't argue with that logic," Cady giggles, smiling at Janis.


	27. Sing It Out

Janis has never gotten a candy cane gram before.

 It's never exactly saddened her or anything, but she's definitely never seen so much as a hint of red ribbon on her desk.

Which is why she's quite frankly astonished when Damian, all suited up, pours a ridiculous mountain of candy canes onto her desk. "And...sixteen for Janis Sarkisian," he reads in a surprised voice. "Way to go, Janis!"

Janis picks up one of the candy canes. "From: Sasha Fierce wait lol no don't write that," she reads off the tag. Another says "guess haha you can't." A third bears the epithet "someone really scared of doing this." They go on and on.

"The Kool-Aid man."

"Your mom."

"Fortnite."

"Shane Dawson."

"You wish."

"Aggressively not-straight."

Janis giggles a little reading the tags. It's absolutely ridiculous.

"Ha-ha," she tells Damian after class. "Did you seriously buy sixteen candy canes and write idiotic names on them?"

"It wasn't me," Damian answers, looking up from his script. "I figured you'd think that."

Janis rolls her eyes. "Right. If it wasn't you, who was it?"

"I don't know.  But Janis, have I ever, in the history of our friendship, sent you one of the stupid Christmas gram things?"

"No," Janis admits. "But who else is going to send the space dyke sixteen candy canes?"

"Sounds like you've got a secret admirer."

Janis sighs skeptically. "You're sure it wasn't you?"

"Jan, I'm pretty sure I'd remember buying sixteen candy grams."

"Then we have to figure out who did."

"We do?"

"Yes! Don't you want to know who "MCR's Return" is?"

"Okay, wow. That's low."

"Damian, I'm as mad as you are, but seriously, bigger issues right now."

"Janis, I am still triggered! I am holding out for 2019!"

"Shut up and help me."

"Or?"

"Or I'll G-note you."

"Fine! I'll help you!"

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You think it's Kevin Gnapoor?" Janis snorts in disbelief. "Call me when the shuttle lands."

"Why not? He had a huge crush on you in fifth grade. Maybe he's still got a soft spot?"

"And the great 'Kevin G' would feel the need to hide his identity?"

"What's up with incognito Kevin?" Cady asks, sliding her lunch tray down.

"Janis got sixteen candy grams," Damian replies. "And we have no idea who they're from, unless 'Lesbian Jesus' is a new student we haven't met."

Cady chokes on her hamburger. Janis thumps her on the back. "Jeez, what's got you all in a fuss?" she asks in confusion.

"Nothing, just - you got th - sixteen? Sixteen candy grams? And you don't know who from?"

"No idea," Janis frowns. "You haven't heard anything, have you?"

"No," Cady squeaks, her cheeks bright red. "No, I haven't. I have to go, I have a - a meeting! With Ms. Norbury! Bye!"

She bolts away, leaving her cookie on the table. "What's up with her?" Janis asks, unwrapping the cookie and breaking it in half, tossing one chunk to Damian and taking a huge bite of the other.

Damian shrugs. "Who knows? She's kinda weird."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Regina? Are you out of your fucking mind?"

"She shows the signs of repressed lesbianism," Damian points out. "Maybe the whole "space dyke" thing was an episode of internalized homophobia."

"Are you kidding? She's a scum-sucking, fart-mouthed life-ruiner!"

"Janis is right," Cady says quietly from the outskirts of the conversation. "Regina doesn't give candy canes, she just gets them. She told me herself."

"Well, then who the hell did?" Janis yells, throwing up her hands in frustration.

"Maybe they wanna keep it a secret," Cady suggests, her cheeks heating up again. "Maybe it's a secret crush and they don't want you to know yet and they just wanted to make you happy and let you know someone liked you. I don't know, though," she adds hurriedly, blushing furiously.

"But I want to know!" Janis whines. "My love life sucks, I'd definitely be interested in anyone who hasn't run away screaming yet!"

She doesn't notice how hard Cady's blushing.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Damian corners Cady after school, while Janis is staying late to work on a painting. "All right, spill. I know it was you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Cady stammers, her face as red as a cardinal. "What, do you think I have a crush on Janis or something? Because I definitely don't, that'd be weird, she's my best friend-"

"Caddie, honey, I love you, but you're a terrible liar. Just stop now."

Cady sighs. "She knows, doesn't she? And now she hates me?"

"She has no idea. She's Janis. She's oblivious. But I'm going to tell her."

Cady's eyes widen. "What? No? She'll get so mad!"

"Relax, I'm not going to yet. But why so many?"

Cady somehow blushes even more. "I - I kept chickening out. I'd go up and buy one, and start to say my name, and then panic and say something stupid, and then I'd get my guts back, and go try again, and freak out again. I know, it's so dumb. I'm an idiot."

"It's cute," Damian smiles. "And she likes it more than she's letting on. She cracked up over the 'Dan and Phil' one."

"It's so dorky," Cady sighs. "She's going to think I'm such an idiot when you tell her."

"Shh, Caddie. I'm going to help you. I'm pretty sure she likes you back. She's showing the signs of a Janis crush. They're rare, but distinctive. I'm going to arrange for you two to get together."

Cady's eyes widen to the size of half-dollars. "Really? How?"

"Leave that to me. It'll be great, though."

"Thank you so much!" Cady squeals, throwing her arms around Damian and hugging him tightly. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Easy there, tiger. Don't have a heart attack before I get you your girl."

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The pieces fall together perfectly, and Cady and Janis are both unsuspecting of Damian's plan. It's a brilliant one, too. They'd better get together after this.

"Hey, Caddie," Damian calls. "There's a hummingbird trapped in the art room! I couldn't catch it. Can you try with your Africa magic?"

"I'm on it," Cady replies confidently, feet pounding away.

She flies into the art room, nearly slamming into Janis, who's on her way out.

"Oh, hey," Cady says awkwardly, trying to cover the blush in her cheeks. "I came to catch the - the hummingbird-"

"Hummingbird?" Janis asks, her nose scrunching in confusion. God, it's adorable. "What are you talking about, Caddie? There's no hummingbird in here."

"Oh. Oh. Um, Damian said there was, I guess he was pranking me, I'll just...go, then," Cady mumbles, trying to cover her embarrassment and failing miserably.

"Hey, look!" Janis says suddenly.

Cady glances up in the direction Janis is pointing to see a small sprig of green plant with soft white bulbs hanging from the ceiling above them. "Mistletoe," Cady says softly, even more heat rushing to her cheeks.

Janis locks eyes with her, smiling softly. Cady's aware she must look like a fire engine right now, and she must look ridiculous, but she can't get rid of the blush. She can't.

"I sent them," she blurts out before she can stop herself. "I sent the candy canes, and I kept panicking and saying something dumb, and I thought there was no way they'd send something from someone who called themselves "McDonalds," but apparently they did, and now you're going to think I'm an idiot-"

She's interrupted by two soft, cool lips connecting slowly with her own.

The books in her arms fall to the floor. It doesn't break them apart. Janis cups a hand to her cheek, angling her head for a better touch. Cady slowly runs her fingers through Janis's soft mane of hair, gasping a little as Janis slips an arm around her back, pulling her closer.

Their lips move in sync, gently and gracefully, Janis holding Cady securely. Cady runs her hands all over Janis, hoping she's not being overbearing but wanting to feel every inch of soft yet muscled curves. Janis smells like paint and lemon shampoo. Her body is soft and warm and covered in her army jacket, which feels exactly like Cady dreamed it would under her hands.

They finally break apart, gasping for breath. Their arms remain around each other, frozen, wanting to preserve this moment forever. They're only a few inches apart. Janis's eyes are like honey being stirred into melted chocolate. They're large and brown and full of wisdom and understanding and joy and magic and surprise and love. Cady could stare into those soft, liquid, melting eyes for the rest of eternity and never get bored of looking.

Damian breaks the peaceful silence by bursting out of the art room closet. "I fucking knew it!"


	28. Blue Midnight

"Chicken noodle or tomato?"

"Mac, I don't need soup, because I'm not sick," Veronica insists, folding her arms and pouting, her bright red nose betraying her.

"Right. You're more congested than my great-aunt Sue who's allergic to dust, corn, and her husband. What kind of soup do you want?"

"I'm not-" Veronica is rudely interrupted by a fit of violent sneezing, sending her half-doubled over with the force. 

"Sick? Sure. Chicken noodle it is, that's a nasty cold," Heather fusses, handing her the cough drops before going downstairs to bring up the soup.

"I'm not sick!" Veronica insists, rubbing her aching temples as soon as Heather disappears. Heather doesn't respond, probably tired of arguing with her.

As soon as her yellow-clad girlfriend is gone, Veronica kicks her blankets off. By any means necessary, she'll prove to Heather she's not sick, she's just fine. And if she has to walk all the way downstairs to do it, she will.

Shakily, she manages to pull herself up, barely staying on her feet. Her head swims and her vision blurs and her knees wobble, but she's not sick. She's definitely not sick.

Stumbling dizzily, she manages to stagger in the general direction of the stairs. Her steps are slow and agonizing, every one a painful, costly effort. Even standing up saps at her low reservoirs of strength. She's tired. So tired. She wants to lay down and sleep for a year.

But she's not sick.

Finally, she makes it out the door, bumping the frame hard first. The blow jolts her further and she stumbles, losing her balance and nearly tumbling to the ground. She's almost there...she can see the stairs...

"Ronnie? What are you doing?"

Heather's voice startles her and her weak grip slips, sending her slipping to the floor. She's falling and she's not going to be able to catch herself, she already knows it.

"Shit, Ronnie!" Heather rushes forward, tossing the thermos of soup aside, and catches her, stabilizing her and propping her against the doorframe. "Darling, what are you doing? You're sick, you need to be resting..."

"Not...not sick..." Veronica mumbles, clinging to the door and to Heather for support, feeling sweat trickle down her face.

Heather caresses her forehead slowly, stroking her sweaty skin. "You're running a fever, darling," she says softly, reaching out an arm. "We need to get you to bed. Lean on me."

Ronnie, too exhausted to argue, slumps against Heather, allowing herself to be half-carried, half-dragged to her bed. "Ronnie, lie down," Heather orders, easing her back against her pillows. "You need to rest to feel better..."

"Not sick..." Veronica insists, curling into Heather's arms.

"Whatever you say, darling," Heather sighs, kissing her burning forehead softly.


	29. Not a Rewards System

"You're going to learn how to paint if it's the last thing I ever do," Janis says determinedly, seizing Cady's hand and dragging her into the garage/studio.

"Babe, I'm not good at it like you are," Cady sighs as her girlfriend hauls her toward the painting supplies. "I'll just waste your paints."

"No, you won't! You'll be painting, and I'll be getting to spend time with you, and that makes it not a waste. It's art, Caddie, it's about expression, not perfection." Janis pushes herself up onto her toes and kisses her on the cheek softly. "Give it a shot, love? Please?"

Cady sighs, melting at the sight of Janis's gorgeous brown eyes, round and pleading. "Fine. Show me what to do."

Janis squeals, bouncing slightly on her heels. "Here, take a tray, I'll get you some paint."

Moving carefully with practiced, expert motions, Janis squeezes paint onto Cady's palette. "Mix there if you need a different color. Tell me if you need help."

Janis settles into her easel, pushing her mane of two-toned hair behind her shoulders. Dipping her brush into her azure paint, she sets to work on her background, her face set with concentration.

Cady loves to watch Janis paint. The passion, the skill, the way her brush draws beautiful pictures in just a few quick motions - it's one of her favorite things about her girlfriend. Painting herself? She doesn't like that so much.

However, as much as she hates art, she loves Janis a million times more, and it'll make her happy if Cady tries, so she reluctantly dips her brush into her green paint and pulls up an image of a house on her phone. It should be easy enough to paint. Janis could do it in half an hour, tops. 

"Cheater," Janis teases. She doesn't ever copy an image; she always paints from her own mind. 

"We can't all be Van Gogh," Cady responds, wincing as the paint on her brush splatters. 

She hears Janis giggle, a sound that Cady will gladly flick paint in the wrong place to hear. "Gentle," Janis says. "You don't have to force it."

After about half an hour, Janis stands up from her easel and stretches her legs, leaning against Cady.

"Caddie, love," Janis says gently. "I love and adore you and I mean this in the kindest and most loving way possible, but what are you doing to that paintbrush?"

"Painting," Cady growls, redoubling her efforts to make the grass less blobby.

"Love, you're massacring it," Janis says gently, a tinge of humor touching her voice. "No wonder you're having trouble, you're shredding the bristles."

"How are you so good at this?" Cady whines, dropping the brush into a cup of water.

"Well, I've had years of practice, and I had my art therapy, and then some of it's just natural," Janis says with a shrug.

"I'll never be good at this," Cady sighs, burying her head in her paint-splattered hands. "I'm not good at anything. I'll never be good at anything. What am I gonna do, Jan? I don't fit in anywhere."

"No, love, no," Janis says instantly, cupping Cady's face in her hand, forcing her to look into her eyes. "Love, you're not much of an artist, I'll admit that. But you're good at making me laugh, and you're good at cheering me up no matter how shitty my day was, and you're good at memorizing the words to the showtunes you sing with Damian, and you're good at braiding hair, and you're good at making me eat when I don't want to, and you're good at knowing when I just need a hug, and you're extremely good at cuddling." Janis pushes Cady's shiny brown hair out of her face, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "So don't let me hear you say anything about not being good at anything again, because it's not true. And you might not know what you want to do with your life yet, but love, you're behind. You lived in Africa. We'll find you something you absolutely kick ass at, and then you can make me do it with you, and when I suck at it you can laugh and help me. You hear me?"

Cady nods, cracking a smile at the comforting expression on her girlfriend's face. "Now, pick up a brush and get your paint," Janis orders, tapping Cady on the nose. "I'm gonna help you paint this house, and it's gonna be the best damn house anyone has ever painted in the history of ever."

Cady laughs outright at that and prepares another paintbrush with green paint. Janis gently wraps her hand over Cady's. "What you're doing is mashing the brush onto the canvas," Janis says gently. "What you want to do is this." Her wrist effortlessly ghosts over the blobby green paint smears, leaving a perfect swirl of green behind. "See what I mean?"

Cady nods. "Okay, so now you do it," Janis directs. "My hand's just along for the ride, you're flying solo. Just like I showed you, ready?"

Cady mimics Janis's smooth hand motion, swiping the brush across the paper. It's a little rough, a little smeary, but miles better than before. "Good," Janis says, smiling proudly. She pecks Cady on the cheek. "You're getting it."

Slowly, with Janis's help, Cady finishes the painting. "Initials in the corner," Janis directs. 

Cady draws them in carefully and then hands the pencil to Janis. "Yours too," she orders. "You helped."

Smiling, Janis etches in her own initials. 

"What were you painting?" Cady asks, resting her head on Janis's shoulder.

"Oh, nothing," Janis says, stroking her hair absentmindedly. "You, in your Spring Fling outfit. I had it all penciled in already, it just needs to get colored in."

"You're painting me?" Cady squeals. "Janis!" She pulls Janis in for a firm kiss, laughing.

"I'll take it you like it, then?" Janis asks, smiling at the delighted look on Cady's face.

Cady responds by crashing their lips together again. "I love it, and I love you."


	30. Love Is Love

Janis Sarkisian never saw the color blue.

The sky? For her, it's gray.

The ocean? Gray as well.

Bluebonnets? Ugliest gray flowers you'd ever see. To her, anyway.

Blue is simply not a color she understands.

Damian can't see green. Instead of green grass, he sees gray. He often begs Janis to describe the color to him, aching to know the color that will one day change his life, but words always fail her. She can't describe green, for green just is.

Janis never saw the color blue.

She waits, day in and day out, praying that one day, she'll look into someone's eyes, and see it. 

Blue.

"But how will I know what blue looks like?" seven-year-old Janis asks her mother, playing with a sapphire necklace her mother owned. She doesn't understand why her mother loves it so much. It's not a very pretty color.

"You'll know, darling. I didn't know what the color brown looked like, not until I met your father, but I looked into his eyes, and I...I just knew that this was it. This was the color I'd heard so much about."

Janis is very glad that she has an interesting color to look forward to. Her own eyes are plain old boring brown, like her dad's. Like mud. She doesn't think brown is a very nice color. Her poor soulmate will be thrilled about it, though.

Imagine getting excited over something the color of mud.

When Janis is twelve, she falls in love.

Regina George is beautiful. She is charming and bewitching and powerful and smart and dangerous. Janis is certain that this is it, she's found her soulmate.

But when she looks into Regina's eyes, all she sees is gray, staring back at her.

Stupid gray.

Janis is very tired of seeing gray.

"I just want to see blue!" she complains to Damian. "How long do I have to wait?"

"I want to see green!" Damian chimes in. "Try again, please? To tell me what it looks like?"

"It's - it's just - it's just - green," Janis finishes lamely. "I don't know how to describe it. It's just...it's green."

"It's like I'm there," Damian snorts, flopping back onto the bed. Janis knows he's not really mad.

Janis is fourteen when Damian comes home from arts camp, gushing about the color green. 

"It's so beautiful!" he enthuses. "I just looked into Philip's eyes, and I saw it! Green! I can see grass, Jan, I can see plants! Frogs! I can see green!"

"I'm still stuck with boring old gray," Janis sighs. "What's it like, when you see it? Is it like in the movies?"

"No, it's better," Damian exclaims. "You look into their eyes, and there's just - there's this whole new color, one you never imagined existing before, and then you look around, and it's everywhere, in little things and big things, and you wonder how much you missed, and they're looking around too, and then you lock eyes again, and there's this moment - oh, Jan, I can't explain it. It's a moment of knowing."

Janis's desire to see blue increases even more.

Six weeks later, Damian's heart is broken, and the green goes away.

It doesn't happen often. But sometimes it does. Your soulmate breaks your heart, damaging your relationship, and you split, swearing never to return to each other. Then that color, that beautiful new color you saw for the first time, when you looked them in the eyes...it goes away. Your eyes can no longer process it. No one knows why. Scientists call it "Fractured Occipital Lobe Syndrome." People on the street call it "Broken Color Syndrome."

Damian sobs in Janis's arms as she tries desperately to console him, rocking him gently back and forth, and as selfish as it is, all she can think is that he's wearing a gray sweater, and she's pretty sure it's not actually gray.

Damian slowly recovers, but he never sees the green again. The only way he will see it again is if he and Philip reconnect, reigniting the bond between their hearts. Philip won't. He'd rather go in a world without blue - the color of Damian's eyes - then be with him.

Janis is sixteen when she hears of a new girl in school. "Heard she's eating lunch in the bathroom," someone snickers.

She and Damian lock eyes, nodding to each other. They will help this girl.

The girl is seated alone in a stall, miserably chewing a sandwich. They call her out, Damian making drug jokes to coax a laugh out of her, and she steps out, turning to wave at Janis.

Their eyes meet.

The world explodes.

The girl's eyes are the color Janis has only heard of in stories. She's never seen this before. 

Never.

Hoping it's not a lie, she turns around slowly, scanning the bathroom. That wall? 

It's not gray.

It's the new color.

The soap?

It's not gray.

It's the new color.

Damian's shirt?

It's not gray and white plaid.

It's striped with white and the new color.

"Blue."

Janis barely whispers it, staring into the girl's eyes.

"Brown."

The girl is staring into her eyes, astonished.

"I've never seen anything so beautiful," the girl sighs, gazing into Janis's eyes like she never wants to look away.

"I can finally see the sky," Janis breathes, holding her gaze.

"I'm Cady Heron," the girl says, reaching out.

"Janis. Janis Sarkisian," Janis replies numbly, shaking her outstretched hand.

Blue.

Brown.

Two new colors.

The world is sometimes beautiful.


End file.
